<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>bloodshot by starboykeith</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291671">bloodshot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith'>starboykeith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Law &amp; Order: SVU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abduction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Protective Nick Amaro, Recovery, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first tentative step into dating is interrupted when Rafael is kidnapped by a man with an axe to grind, and Nick quickly realises he's running out of time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nick Amaro/Rafael Barba</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i arrive at the rarest of rarepairs with a 35,000 word gift that i lovingly wrote over 3 months. thank you so much to anyone who reads my lil lockdown project, i'll be updating every friday :')</p><p>dedicated to the person i couldn't have done this without, ilysm han and i hope you love it &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the disgruntled waiter places the check somewhat pointedly between them, Rafael finally glances up and realises the restaurant has pretty much cleared out.</p><p>“I suppose that’s our cue to leave,” he says ruefully.</p><p>Nick grins at him. “Can I get a card machine?” he asks the waiter, taking the check with hardly a glance. “I’ll get it,” he says, gaze returning to Rafael, who bites the inside of his cheek, having predicted Nick would insist and wishing he wasn’t right so often.</p><p>“We’ll split it,” he says in a tone he thinks brooks no argument, but it’s much different facing Nick than the prosecutors he verbally brawls with on a daily basis: Nick shakes his head and laughs.</p><p>“Nah,” he says easily. “I asked you out, after all.</p><p>Any objections Rafael has are based around things too delicate to bring up — the disparity between their incomes, chiefly — and so he lets Nick be the gentleman, leaving the restaurant in companionable silence and hailing a cab.</p><p>“I’ll see you home,” Nick answers to Rafael’s questioning glance. “If that’s alright, of course.”</p><p>“Perhaps chivalry isn’t dead,” Rafael says, only half sardonically. In the back of the cab, he reaches for Nick’s hand, and the smile that blooms on Nick’s face is consolation enough. Nick turns Rafael’s hand over, rubbing circles on the back with his thumb, and they arrive at Rafael’s building far, far too soon.</p><p>Rafael pays the cab fare and they enter the lobby, all too aware they’re one elevator ride from parting ways. Nick walks him to his door as promised, and there’s a brief pause as Rafael unlocks his door and stops before opening it.</p><p>When he turns, Nick is much closer than before, leaning one arm on the door frame and making their already sizeable height difference seem immense. Rafael sucks in a breath, and they’re still chest to chest. Nick’s eyes shine almost black in the low light, and Rafael is struck all over again at how <em> handsome </em> Nick is.</p><p>“I had a good time,” he murmurs, gaze dipping to Rafael’s lips. “I hope you did too.”</p><p>“I did,” Rafael says quietly, and waits, and gets impatient. “Well, are you going to—”</p><p>Nick’s kissing him before he can finish, one arm curving up around Rafael’s back and pressing him close, the soft press of lips turning harder as Rafael leans into it, swiping his tongue daringly across Nick’s lower lip and sighing when he responds. Nick’s so warm and Rafael can’t help but be drawn into it, drawn into him, and he wonders breathlessly how far they could take this, if they could—</p><p>He regrets that he has to draw back, hand moving to the centre of Nick’s chest and pushing gently. Nick goes at once, searching Rafael’s face, but visibly relaxes at the realisation there’s nothing wrong.</p><p>“Much as I would love to continue this,” Rafael says, “I have court in the morning.”</p><p>“I was afraid you’d say that,” Nick says, chuckling as he rubs a hand through his hair. “Can I see you tomorrow? I’ll bring coffee.”</p><p>The better he gets to know Nick, the more Nick surprises him. “Half one and no later,” Rafael decides. He’ll have to haul ass to make his post-lunch appointments, but it’ll be worth it. Nick’s still looking at him like he’s waiting for something so Rafael leans up for another kiss, short and sweet and pleased with himself when Nick leans in helplessly as they break apart.</p><p>“Hmm,” Nick says, breaking into a smile as he moves away. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”</p><p>“Half one on the dot,” Rafael calls after him. Nick waves. Once he’s rounded the corner, Rafael allows himself a rare smile.</p><p>Full of plans to put food in the fridge, a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, and condoms in his drawer, Rafael doesn’t notice the shadows at the other end of the corridor move.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nick feels like he’s walking on air all morning. He doesn’t text Rafael, despite agonising over it, not wanting to jinx things by discovering Rafael has a case he can’t pull himself away from, and gets through paperwork at a speed that has Rollins raising her eyebrows. Other than potentially catching a horrific case between now and then, Nick is determined for nothing to come between him and seeing Rafael today.</p><p>He springs for artisan coffee, wincing at the price, and drives down a little early, unsure as ever how much time Rafael can actually spare. He doesn’t mind waiting; it’ll give the butterflies in his stomach a chance to settle down.</p><p>The halls are busy, judges and attorneys alike rushing off for their lunch breaks, and Nick almost feels content enough to whistle. He looks for Rafael in the crowds but doesn’t find him so continues walking to his office, straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair.</p><p>“Detective,” someone calls, and Nick turns to see Rafael’s assistant coming towards him. She looks harried, darting a glance behind him as if looking for Liv, and seeming disappointed that he’s alone.</p><p>“Miss Lance,” he returns. When she reaches him, she joins him in walking towards Rafael’s office. They’ve never exchanged words that weren’t related to a case, and Nick shoots her a questioning glance.</p><p>“Have you seen Mr Barba this morning?” she asks. “I’ve called around, but no luck. Is he with you?”</p><p>“I... was going to ask you the same thing,” Nick says, frowning and speeding up, Rafael’s office seeming miles away. “You haven’t seen him?”</p><p>“He hasn’t come in, hasn’t called,” she says. “I phoned home, phoned the DA, was about to phone you guys. Nothing.”</p><p>They reach Rafael’s office, which is open, Lance’s desk neat and tidy, her phone silent as the grave, accompanied by the lingering ghosts of meetings she’s presumably cancelled in Rafael’s absence. Rafael’s desk is somewhat cluttered, but Nick’s never seen it free of work; it doesn’t set off alarm bells. </p><p>“Who does he call if he’s sick?” Nick asks, monotonous as panic starts setting in. Rafael isn’t the type to cut and run. Something’s wrong.</p><p>“The DA, and he’d notify me, so I could cancel appointments as necessary,” Lance says. She hesitates, looking up at him, and Nick notices for the first time how many times she’s run a hand through her hair, shirt coming untucked as she visited various offices in the building. “The thing is, Detective... Mr Barba’s never taken a sick day in all the time I’ve been working for him.”</p><p>Rafael doesn’t change assistants often, hates waiting for them to reveal if they can handle it or whether they break under pressure, bringing them up to speed on his case history, his relationship with each judge, how he likes his office run. Nick’s pretty sure Lance has been with him for a few years; he brought her with him from Brooklyn.</p><p>“Okay,” he says aloud, stalling for time and taking a large gulp of coffee. “I’ll grab another detective, check out his place. I wouldn’t worry just yet.”</p><p>“Thank you for taking it seriously,” Lance says. “When I rang Rella, she laughed and said he was probably blowing off steam. But God knows he has enough vacation days accrued — and besides, it’s just not like him. We’re in the middle of prepping for the Everett trial.”</p><p>Nick nods, keeping a calm tone despite his grip tightening on the takeout cups in both hands. “We’ll find him, okay? In the meantime, you’ve got some meetings to reschedule, right?” She looks calmer when she nods, focusing on her job rather than her worry. “He’ll want to be brought up to speed when he’s back.”</p><p>“He’ll be spitting mad,” Lance says with a weak smile. “Alright. Keep in touch, Detective.”</p><p>After getting no answer from Rafael, Nick calls Liv, wary of going off half-cocked and winding up in the jaws of IAB. Aware that even Munch would call him paranoid, he downplays it, but knows she’ll hear the worry in his voice.</p><p>“Sarge,” he says quietly into the phone, cupping his mouth so Lance can’t hear. “Barba never made it to work this morning.”</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>“We were supposed to meet at his office, but I’m here and his assistant hasn’t heard from him. Judge Rella says he skipped their meeting and was a no-show in court this morning.”</p><p>“That’s not like him,” Liv says, concerned. “Where are you now?”</p><p>“Still at the office.” Nick hesitates, not wanting to overstep. “I was gonna check out his place.”</p><p>“I’ll send Fin,” Liv says after a moment. “And I’ll make some calls.”</p><p>Nick’s just glad it isn’t Carisi. He hands Fin the coffee when he arrives, and Fin takes a sip as he starts the car.</p><p>He wrinkles his nose. “This wasn’t meant for me, was it?”</p><p>“No,” Nick admits.</p><p>“‘Course Barba takes his coffee black, no sugar,” Fin mutters. He gives Nick a sideways glance. “You okay?”</p><p>“Maybe he overslept,” Nick says weakly, averting his eyes from the dashboard clock reading 2pm.</p><p>At Rafael’s apartment, the doorman asks to see their badges, and Nick notes security cameras in the lobby and in Rafael’s corridor out of habit. Once they reach his apartment, unlocked and empty, it’s all Nick can think about.</p><p>“Have you tried calling him yet?” Fin asks.</p><p>“Twice,” Nick says stiffly.</p><p>Fin nods. “Don’t call again. If he had it on him, we can track it, and calling him could tip someone off.”</p><p>“You think he’s been taken.”</p><p>“It’s a possibility. Liv’s right; this isn’t like him. No signs of a struggle, though. Keys in the bowl, briefcase by the door,” Fin remarks. He seems to notice Nick just standing there and shoots him a sympathetic look. “You wanna take the bedroom?”</p><p>Nick shakes himself out of his daze, forcing himself to stop speculating like a civilian and do his goddamn job. The doors are open from them clearing the apartment minutes before and Nick takes his time, noting the bed hasn’t been slept in and the shower curtain is dry. No signs that the rooms have been disturbed, though, so he returns to Fin, who’s bagging something held carefully between his thumb and forefinger.</p><p>“You got something?” Nick demands, instantly regretting his tone. Fin just raises his eyebrows.</p><p>“Hair,” he answers. “Blond and curly.”</p><p>Nick nods. “Raf — Barba didn’t sleep here last night.”</p><p>“Something going on with you two?” Fin doesn’t look at him as he says it, kneeling to open Rafael’s briefcase and skimming the documents inside.</p><p>“We’ve got a thing,” Nick says uncomfortably, stepping closer to read over Fin’s shoulder.</p><p>“These are from yesterday. Think it’s safe to assume he didn’t make it far past the door.” He looks up then, catching Nick’s eye. “Sorry, Amaro.”</p><p>Fin turns away to call Liv, and Nick walks away, bracing himself against the kitchen counter and pushing a frustrated hand through his hair. He listens to the call with half an ear but all he can think about is Rafael, if he’s in pain, why he’s been taken, who he’s with.</p><p>Behind him, Fin returns his phone to his pocket. “They’re sending in CSU. Stay put.”</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Nick mutters. He pulls out his phone and stares at the screen, finding solace in the photo of his children but unable to stop his mind whirring.</p><p>It doesn’t improve when CSU arrive, Nick stressed and pacing and eventually being told to get some air. The elevator feels cramped, stuffy, even with just him in it; he can’t help thinking that less than twenty four hours ago he’d been in this elevator with Rafael and then he’d had Rafael in his arms and now he’s <em> lost </em> him.</p><p>He uses the time to ask the doorman some questions; it’s not the man who worked last night but he provides the name of who did, and Nick thanks him and says they’ll be in touch. He wonders if Rollins has tracked Rafael’s phone yet, and suddenly aches to return to the precinct, to have that atmosphere of control and a whiteboard full of plans. As he heads for the elevator, Fin steps out of it.</p><p>“Got anything?” Nick asks.</p><p>“Pulled some fingerprints, one or two more hairs. If something happened, Barba went willingly.”</p><p>Nick, unable to stop himself imagining someone forcing Rafael out of there at gunpoint, bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. “Anything else?”</p><p>“You realise you’re the last person who saw him?” Fin asks. Nick appreciates that Fin didn’t add <em> alive</em>.</p><p>He hadn’t realised, too caught up in the fact that Rafael’s missing. It makes him the prime suspect.</p><p>“Straight to the box for me then, huh,” Nick says grimly. There’s no way the team will believe he had anything to do with this, and the security footage will exonerate him, but Rafael’s an ADA: there’ll be immense pressure to pin this on just about anybody. The brass will want Nick to remain the suspect for as long as possible.</p><p>When they return, Liv’s jaw is set, hair just this side of ruffled. Nick breathes a little easier seeing that they’ve been hard at work, Liv and Carisi looking over Rollins’ shoulder as she types furiously. Though he’d known it was coming, seeing Rafael’s picture on the board is like a knife through the heart.</p><p>“Hey,” Liv says, straightening up. “Anything from CSU?”</p><p>“Couple hairs, some fingerprints,” Fin says.</p><p>“I’m waiting on a call back from the building about the security footage,” Carisi says. “At the very least, we could find out who was the last to see Barba.”</p><p>Fin makes eye contact with Nick, who nods, appreciating the opportunity to tell them himself. “I did,” he says.</p><p>“You?” Rollins looks confused. “Were you at his office? I was the last one to leave here last night.”</p><p>“We weren’t at his office,” Nick says, trying to get over himself and just <em> spit it out</em>. He never imagined it’d be easiest telling Fin.</p><p>“So where were you?”</p><p>When Nick doesn’t answer, Liv steps forward, and Nick clears his throat. “Nick, this could be important.”</p><p>“We were on a date,” Nick bites out. He doesn’t like the way it sounds in his mouth, like they had to force it out of him, like he’s ashamed. He thinks of how excited he’d been after Rafael agreed to meet, of how long he spent choosing between three identical white shirts, like a high school kid going on his first date. Shame is the <em> last </em> thing he’s feeling, but he wasn’t exactly going to tell the squad after just one date. He wanted to keep this to himself for a while, something shiny to keep in his pocket and look at and think about whenever he wanted. Something that was just for him.</p><p>He refocuses on the present when Carisi catches his eye, mouth quirking in that half-smile of his. It’s clear nobody’s spoken. “We weren’t going to tell you guys yet,” Nick mumbles.</p><p>Liv coughs, thawing the frozen room. “Alright,” she says authoritatively. “Where did you go and when did you last see him?”</p><p>“<em>La Belle Endormie</em>. Seven till ten. I walked him to his door.”</p><p>“So that’ll be on the security footage,” Rollins says, relieved. “And so will… anyone else.”</p><p>Carisi’s phone rings as if on cue. “SVU,” he answers. “Are you serious?” Conscious of everyone staring at him, he scowls and says, “Yes — sorry, I understand you’ve done the best you can. If you could just send it over — yep, okay. And he hung up on me.” He exhales. “Okay, we need TARU down here; the manager’s sending the footage through now.”</p><p>Liv nods. “Get on that. Nick — I’m gonna have to ask you to—“</p><p>“The box, yeah. It’s fine.” He’s not looking forward to being interrogated about his relationship with the ADA, what was discussed during the date, how he left Rafael at the door, but if he’s got some small shred of information that could help, he’ll admit it in a heartbeat.</p><p>“Technically speaking, we should bring in an outside officer to question you, but they’re willing to overlook that because this is high-profile and ongoing,” Rollins says, looking as uncomfortable as he feels to be sat in the perp's seat. “But we have to make sure it’s recorded and reviewed, after.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“How would you describe your relationship with Barba?” Carisi winces even as he says it.</p><p>“Uh, we’ve become good friends as of late, and I asked him out a week ago.”</p><p>“So you initiated the relationship,” Rollins says. Nick hopes he’s imagining how her eyes have hardened; he thinks regretfully of that spark between them that he’d always avoided following through on. Now, she probably thinks she knows why. “Where did you go?”</p><p>“Last night, we met at <em> La Belle Endormie </em> at seven pm,” Nick says, “and stayed until ten.”</p><p>“Long date,” Carisi remarks. “Went well?”</p><p>“Yes.” Nick glares at Carisi when he raises his eyebrows; as if he’s going to elaborate.</p><p>“Did you notice anyone or anything strange inside the restaurant?” When Nick shakes his head, Rollins continues, “What about when you left? Anyone watching you?”</p><p>“Not that I noticed,” Nick says. “Then we got a cab together. I didn’t notice anything strange about the driver.” He pauses, closing his eyes and trying to visualise it, replays getting into the cab, sparing the driver a quick glance before they set off... “You know — I think the cab I caught when I came back out was the same guy.”</p><p>Rollins and Carisi exchange a glance. “You think or you know?”</p><p>Nick swears liberally in both Spanish and English, remembering now the slope of the man’s nose, aquiline in profile as he turned his head for Rafael’s and then Nick’s address. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot!” He slams his hand down on the table and gets up, pacing by the back wall like dozens of suspects before him. He feels as guilty as any of them.</p><p>“Hey, you weren’t to know,” Rollins says gently. “Can you describe him?”</p><p>“Tanned, long nose,” Nick grits out, bubbling over with anger and desperately wanting to hit something. “Fuck!”</p><p>Liv doesn’t knock before entering the room. “We’ve got the footage,” she says. When she hesitates, Nick knows something is wrong. “It’s corrupted. Potentially unrecoverable. No one thinks you had anything to do with this, Nick, but…”</p><p>“It looks bad,” Nick supplies without making eye contact.</p><p>Fin sticks his head around the doorframe. “Listen, if Amaro writes out his witness statement we can get right on tracking down others. Someone saw something last night. And we know that our cab driver had an accomplice.”</p><p>When they leave, Carisi continues, “What happened after you arrived at Barba’s? Did you go in?”</p><p>Nick shakes his head no, sitting back down and exhaling heavily. “I walked him to his apartment door and we… said goodbye. I turned a corner and left; I didn’t see him go inside, but I saw him unlock the door.”</p><p>“Was anyone else in the corridor?”</p><p>“Not that I noticed,” Nick says glumly, recognising a pattern. It’s stupid to kick himself for not being on duty at all times, he knows, but he can’t help wishing he’d been even a little suspicious.</p><p>“Where’d you go after?”</p><p>“Straight home. You can check with my doorman.”</p><p>“And where was the cab?” Carisi asks.</p><p>Nick runs a hand through his hair. “It pulled up as I got to the curb; must’ve been circling. I realise now it was the same guy, but I didn’t notice at the time. Distracted.” <em> Stupid</em>.</p><p>“We’ll call in the sketch artist.” Rollins pushes the pad and pen across the table to him. “Better get writing.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you sm to everyone who read and enjoyed the first chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rafael wakes cold, his head hitting a solid surface with a resounding thump that sets his ears ringing. He groans, trying to raise a hand to his aching head and quickly realising his hands are tied together. With rope. How medieval.</p><p>Piece by piece, he slowly surmises he’s in the back of a van, that there’s a lump forming on the back of his head, and that he isn’t alone.</p><p>His vision may be swimming, but Rafael recognises the gun in the man’s trembling hands.</p><p>“Hey,” he manages, throat hoarse as though he’d been screaming. “Where am I?” It’s not like he expects to get an answer, but speaking means he’s awake, he’s here, he’s alive.</p><p>The man doesn’t answer, lifting one hand from the gun to put a finger to his lips, but it’s too late — a voice from the cab shouts, “Shut up back there!”</p><p>Sunlight streams suddenly from a crack in one of the van’s blacked-out windows and Rafael winces. It’s afternoon, then — but he might have missed a day, and so he has no way to get his bearings. Upon looking down, he discovers that his rather expensive watch has been pilfered.</p><p>He elects not to talk, deciding not to risk conversation where a gun is involved, but studies the man opposite him. His clothes are worn, frayed — not from lack of care but simply from being used to their breaking point. His hair is well-kept and his face and hands clean, though the nails have gathered a crust of green-black residue and the skin is dotted with various calluses. Rafael’s own hands, sorely in need of a manicure, seem soft and childlike in comparison. Despite his growing fear, Rafael’s hands are not shaking, but the man’s whole body seems wrecked by tremors; the gun seems liable to slide from his sweaty fingers any second, but the man himself is frozen. Rafael is unsure if he’s ever seen such genuine terror in a person.</p><p>When he dares to glance up further, Rafael is struck by the man’s noble, aquiline nose. It  seems vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it; he sees and meets dozens of strangers a day in court. The man’s eyes are bloodshot and watery, perhaps from crying or from a natural disposition.</p><p>From Rafael’s first impression, it’s clear this man is not the brains of the operation.</p><p>“¿Hablas español?” Rafael asks urgently, sensing weakness and intending to exploit it. He can’t remember his attacker, but there’s a good chance he’s white and speaks English only. Rafael doesn’t bother trying to list his enemies and figure out who carries the biggest grudge; he gains a new one every day. All he can do now is make it out of here alive.</p><p>“Si,” the man says uncertainly, eyeing the metal that divides them from the ringleader.</p><p>“<em>Where’s he taking me</em>?” Glancing around, Rafael withdraws his pocket square and pretends to blow his nose. Holding his breath, he tosses the fabric casually to the side. It’s not worth much as a clue, but it’s something.</p><p>“<em>I don’t know, I’m sorry. He — Burlington — made me </em>—“</p><p>“<em>What’s he got on you </em> ?” Rafael asks in a murmur, realising the dynamic here. Unfortunately for him, it probably means that once they reach their destination, this Burlington will no longer have use for his accomplice, who shakes his head in answer. “<em>Please</em>,” Rafael says, and means it. “<em>I</em><em> don’t want to die</em>.”</p><p>“<em>He wants revenge</em>,” the man says. “<em>For his brother</em>.”</p><p>Rafael’s put dozens of men’s brothers away, and he doesn’t recognise the name. He steels his jaw. “<em>What’s your part in this</em>?”</p><p>“<em>I drove your taxi</em>.”</p><p>The van swerves, bumping the pavement. Rafael doesn’t have much time. “<em>Go to the police </em> ,” he says urgently. “<em>Tell them what you know — don’t go down for something you didn’t do. You’ll get a good deal</em>.”</p><p>They both flinch when the van’s doors are yanked violently open, sunlight hitting like a slap to the face with Rafael so groggy. He can’t tell if he’s been hit, or drugged, or both — but despite the brightness he identifies Burlington, who’s holding a syringe.</p><p>“No,” Rafael pleads, squirming backwards as far as he can and kicking out when Burlington grabs for his ankle. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”</p><p>“Hold him,” Burlington demands, advancing. Rafael’s shoulders are pinned as the syringe sinks into his neck, and he slumps with nobody to catch him, darkness filtering into his vision like red wine on a cream rug.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“We want you to sit down with the sketch artist in a minute, but,” Liv closes her office door behind them, and Nick sees everyone’s already gathered around a laptop, “TARU managed to recover some of the footage.”</p><p>“For what time?” Nick asks.</p><p>“Between nine and twelve pm,” Carisi says, almost knocking the laptop off the table as he gestures to the timestamp. “You got back around ten, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Nick echoes, choosing a spot on the wall above Liv’s desk chair to avert his eyes to as the team try to make eye contact. He was there; he doesn’t need to see it again, and he especially doesn’t need to see everyone’s reactions.</p><p>Carisi forwards the video to ten pm and it’s only seconds before Nick and Rafael exit the elevator at about ten past. Upon seeing it, Nick finds he can’t look away, gaze fixed on Rafael’s every action and expression. His heartbeat picks up speed, persisting through his attempts to remind himself that Rafael’s fine, he’s fine, they could end up finding him in the next hour—</p><p>“There’s no audio,” Liv says quietly.</p><p><em> The visual is bad enough</em>, Nick thinks, wincing as he watches himself tower over Rafael. For a moment he wonders how it looks to the others, then decides he doesn’t care, but his cheeks warm as he watches their kiss on-screen.</p><p>With the benefit of an omniscient camera view, Nick watches Rafael smile, really smile, before turning back to the door and reaching for the handle. It’s almost too much to bear, and Nick bites his lip hard.</p><p>“So you-all said goodbye at the door, and you left,” Rollins says, reaching to pause the video. Carisi stops her, and Nick notices it a split-second after.</p><p>“No way,” he says disbelievingly.</p><p>Rollins and Fin lean in, but in the next moment the man at the end of the hallway straightens up, rising from the shadows in one smooth gesture. He’s wearing a wide-brimmed cap, shielding his face from the camera, but doesn’t bother hiding the gun in his hand. He catches Rafael’s door just as it swings shut and enters the apartment, but they don’t have to wait long; it’s only minutes before Rafael precedes the perp out of the door, a gun to the small of his back.</p><p>“Jesus,” Nick says, dropping his head to his knees and digging his thumbs into his eyes until it hurts. “<em>Jesus</em>.”</p><p>Rafael’s smile sticks with him, a bright spot in the darkness but a painful reminder that they were both too loose that night; blind to the forces working them over. Nick feels so <em> stupid</em>.</p><p>Carisi breaks the horrified silence. “I know you were busy,” he says. The others groan.</p><p>“Great start,” Rollins mutters.</p><p>“—but did you feel like you were being watched?”</p><p>“No, Carisi,” Nick says tightly. “It wasn’t on my mind.”</p><p>In the squadroom, the table has vanished underneath a mass of wires, surrounded by TARU crew perched on mismatched chairs they’d pulled from anywhere they could. The team are standing, leaning over various shoulders, and Nick takes the opportunity to pace, chewing his bottom lip.</p><p>“You guys ready?” Carisi asks.</p><p>“We didn’t drag everything up here for nothing,” one of them bites back, and Carisi throws his hands up. “Look, we’ll track it the second someone picks up, or we can at least triangulate his location if the phone’s still on. That’s the best you’re gonna get.”</p><p>“Thanks, guys,” Liv says placatingly. “Okay, let’s go.” Nick’s phone in hand, she makes the call.</p><p>It rings, and rings, and rings. Nick stops pacing and stands as close to Liv as he dares.</p><p>“It’s on speakerphone, Amaro,” Fin says, but then the call goes through.</p><p>“Hello?” Liv says. “This is Sergeant Olivia Benson, with SVU.”</p><p>The man on the line mumbles something, and Liv exchanges a glance with Fin. “No English,” the man says after ten seconds of crackling static. “I have to go.”</p><p>“Wait — espere!” Nick exclaims. Liv immediately yields his phone. “¿Hablas español?”</p><p>“Si,” the man says after a pause.</p><p>Nick identifies himself and establishes that the man’s name is Michael, then asks, “<em>How’d you get this phone</em>?”</p><p>“<em>I found it. I’m the janitor; I find lost property all the time</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Where are you now </em>?”</p><p>Michael provides an address that Nick writes down. “<em>Listen, can you stick around until we get there? </em>”</p><p>A huff of laughter. “<em>I’m still on duty, man</em>.”</p><p>Nick hangs up and exhales. “Okay. Michael’s the janitor for an apartment building, found the phone smashed on the floor. Reckons it was dropped at the scene, because of the glass. He’ll still be on duty when we get there.”</p><p>Liv claps him on the shoulder. “Good work, Amaro. Fin, Rollins, you’ve got the address — find out what he saw. Carisi, stick with the cab network: keep looking for matches to Nick’s police sketch.”</p><p>“You can’t take me off this,” Nick says pleadingly. Rollins spares him a sympathetic glance. His one advantage is speaking Spanish, but Liv could just as easily call in a translator, or a Spanish-speaking officer.</p><p>“Nick, you have to take a step back.”</p><p>“I can’t just stay here.”</p><p>“I know this is hard,” Liv says, not unkindly. “This isn’t just another case, for any of us.” Nick closes his eyes for a long moment. Rollins is taking her time putting her coat on, godsend that she is, and Liv finally says, “Fine. But you’re going as a translator only.”</p><p>“<em>Thank </em> you, Sarge,” Nick says gratefully.</p><p>They find Michael on the second floor, mop in hand. Nick introduces the three of them, explaining that an ADA’s been abducted at gunpoint and they’re trying to track his movements.</p><p>Michael nods. “<em>I saw on the news</em>.” He hesitates. “<em>I</em><em> saw him</em>.”</p><p>“<em>You saw him</em>?” Nick demands. To Fin and Rollins’ raised eyebrows, he repeats, “Michael saw Barba.”</p><p>“<em>Usually lost property is fair game</em>,” Michael says, shrugging. “<em>But I saw who dropped it. He was hauling this other dude along — forties, wearing a suit — like the guy couldn’t walk on his own</em>.”</p><p>Nick translates everything as Michael speaks. Rollins takes hasty notes, lips pursed.  “What does this guy look like?” Fin asks, and Nick poses the question.</p><p>“<em>White, and short — but so was that ADA. Maybe 5’9. Skinny, glasses. Bald spot</em>.”</p><p>“<em>What happened with the phone</em>?”</p><p>“<em>Your guy had his hands free. He came out of the apartment alone, worked his phone out of his pocket, started typing. Other guy saw, got mad — God, he had a hell of a temper — just grabbed the phone and threw it, hard as he could. He didn’t see me: I was just coming down from fifth</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Alright</em>,” Nick says. “<em>I’ll take the phone. You’ll need to come down to the precinct and write a statement. Which apartment was it? </em>”</p><p>Rollins calls Liv while Fin bags the phone and heads upstairs with Michael. “He took Barba to his own apartment?” Liv says in disbelief.</p><p>“Not his. Janitor says it’s a guy called Armando—“</p><p>“Pérez?”</p><p>Nick and Rollins exchange a glance. “How’d you know?”</p><p>“Carisi just got a hit with the police sketch. We’ll need Nick to identify him, but he’s looking like a likely contender.”</p><p>Rollins waits outside, filling Liv in on what they found out about the perp. Nick follows Fin inside the apartment, shooting him a questioning glance. “Door was open,” Fin says with a shrug. “All clear.”</p><p>“<em>Could you wait outside</em>?” Nick asks Michael. If this is a crime scene — and from the way the room’s been torn apart, it definitely is — it doesn’t need to be any further contaminated. The block’s in a bad area; it’s likely someone already happened upon the unlocked apartment, ripe for the taking.</p><p>Rollins comes in and whistles. “The hell happened here?”</p><p>“He was looking for something,” Nick says. “I’ll take the bedroom.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure any room could look worse than the living room, but the bedroom has been ransacked: drawers pulled out, their contents spilled across the floor; the mattress askew and duvet tossed aside. Pulling on gloves, Nick filters through, finding mostly personal possessions, but then he stumbles across a stack of twenties held with a rubber band.</p><p>“Got something!” he yells. Fin appears in the doorway and holds up an identical stack.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Rafael comes to — for the second time that day, he realises — he’s alone.</p><p>His hands are free, but there’s precious little in the basement: a sofa, where Burlington had dumped him, a pool table, a television stand with no TV but chairs arranged facing it, and a slender window, out of reach and painted black from the inside.</p><p>Sitting up sets his head swimming, but Rafael forces himself to his feet, resolutely telling himself it can’t be worse than the worst headaches he got at Harvard. After law school, he was sure he could handle anything, and the mantra hasn’t failed him yet. He mounts the stairs slowly, every step jarring, but can’t hear anything from the house above. He knows the door is locked, but tries it anyway.</p><p>Descending the stairs seems like a momentous task but he manages it, collapsing into one of the mismatched dining chairs. Rafael tries to think back, to remember how he’d gone from backing into the van at gunpoint during the night to waking mid-afternoon. He can’t have been unconscious all that time.</p><p>He wasn’t. He remembers bracing for the blow, passing out all at once, and waking sometime in the early hours of the morning. The van had been parked and nothing had happened for an inordinately long period of time; he remembers the taut pressure of duct tape over his mouth and one handcuff grating on his wrist. Outside, the city was just waking up, with garbage trucks droning along the street and car doors slamming. He didn’t know how long he’d waited, drowsing in and out of consciousness, unsure if he was passing out or sleeping.</p><p>But then there’d been a crash, the van doors slamming open. Burlington had closed them behind him as he ripped the tape from Rafael’s mouth and unlocked the handcuffs before tossing them aside; one of the rings was broken, and short of much to cuff Rafael to, they were useless.</p><p>Things had been hazy, the world blurring in front of him as Burlington hauled him up God knows how many flights of stairs, and then he’d forced Rafael onto the floor and gesticulated some more with the gun. Rafael had become conscious of the bulge of his phone in his pocket, knowing at once that this wasn’t a shakedown by one of the more connected perps he’d put away and eyeing the door, open just a crack and banging occasionally in the wind.</p><p>Burlington was looking for something, pulling out drawers and upending the contents of jars, coffee and sugar spilling and sparkling on the tiled floor. He was making no effort to be quiet despite Rafael’s judgement that it was midday, though depending on the neighbourhood, an apartment being ransacked might not draw that much attention.</p><p>He spent a long time poking around in the bathroom and came out holding the toilet brush, ditching it in the assorted rubbish surrounding the kitchen bin. “Go,” he said gruffly, jerking his head at the bathroom. “If you lock it, I’ll break down the fucking door.”</p><p>Rafael wondered if Burlington suspected he’d attempt to make a last stand with a toilet brush as a weapon, but stood despite his ringing ears. Burlington waited outside, shifting impatiently from one foot to another. Rafael couldn’t see anything that could be used as a weapon in his quick sweep of the room and finished his business quickly, wanting to avoid being hit over the head again. Without his faculties about him, there’s no way he could lay a trail for the detectives tracking him down.</p><p>Burlington forced him to sit in the middle of the living room again. When he entered the bedroom, Rafael rose to his feet, weighing the threat of having his legs broken with the possibility of salvation if his call went through. There things blurred again; he assumes he couldn’t make the call, remembering only his phone shattering on the floor. A hiss in his ear — Burlington saying, “We’ll leave that for your pig boyfriend to find, shall we?”</p><p>“Nick,” Rafael whispers aloud, lips cracked and aching and voice rough with disuse. His arms, bared to the forearm, grow cold with goosebumps.</p><p>Logically, he knows that Nick is safe, feeling certain that Burlington wouldn’t have kept quiet about it if something had happened to him. He wonders what they’re doing — Nick, the whole squad; wonders what picture of him they’ve chosen to show on the news. Hopefully not the godawful one from the DA’s office Christmas party.</p><p>He freezes at a noise from the house above. At first it seems like footsteps, deliberate and menacing, but he realises it’s a grandfather clock, chiming on the hour. Burlington must have brought him to his parents’ house; it would have been amusing if Rafael wasn’t the hostage.</p><p>His abduction had seemed so laughable at first — taking him from a hallway with cameras, using the same vehicle throughout, having an accomplice SVU could crack in minutes — but now, at a secondary location Rafael isn’t sure can be traced back to Burlington, the danger suddenly seems unprecedented. He’s truly alone here. A shiver rolls through him at the thought, and for the first time he worries he won’t make it through this unscathed.</p><p>A hasty search of the room produces the pool cues that go with the table. Rafael hides them behind the TV unit and prays.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They’ve barely piled into the car before Fin’s phone rings.</p><p>“Carisi got hold of footage from the cameras opposite Barba’s apartment,” Liv tells them on speaker. “We’ve got a van, got the plates, and a company: electricians managed by a guy called Lester. Talk to him, find out where that van is now.”</p><p>“There might be GPS,” Rollins says. “See exactly where it’s been in the last 24 hours.”</p><p>“I’m on the phone with Missing Persons, updating the alert,” Liv says. Nick’s glad he’s hardly had chance to catch the news; when Liv was kidnapped by William Lewis, it was unbearable seeing her face on every channel and knowing they were running out of time. “Carisi’s texting you the address. Go.”</p><p>The manager isn’t happy to see them, darting glances at the clock and directing them to his office. Unable to remember if it’s his third or fourth hit of caffeine today, Nick helps himself to coffee from the machine. His hands are shaking.</p><p>“Mr Lester, we’re investigating the kidnap of an ADA,” Rollins starts, “and we think one of your employees may be involved.”</p><p>“I just saw on the news,” Lester says grimly. “Those plates? One of ours.”</p><p>Rollins and Fin exchange a glance. Nick looks out of the window, noting multiple vans in the carpark.</p><p>“Whose van is it?” Fin asks. “We’ll need to talk to them.”</p><p>Lester shrugs. “There’s the problem,” he says, too cheerfully. Nick’s free hand balls into a fist. “Pérez didn’t return it last night, hasn’t shown up for work today. I was about to report him for theft. We’re closing in fifteen minutes, detectives, and I hate to cut this short—“</p><p>“Armando Pérez?” Rollins asks. Lester nods.</p><p>“Jack of all trades, huh — electrician and cab driver?” Fin says. “Sounds like this guy has <em> all </em>the access.”</p><p>“We’ll need his contact details,” Nick says to Lester, forcing himself to relax his grip on the cheap cardboard cup before it splits. “You got security cameras?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lester says, jerking a thumb at the camera in the corner of his office. “Don’t need ‘em. Pérez checked the van out yesterday morning, and last night every one of my guys was accounted for. S’all in the book.”</p><p>“We’ll need to see that,” Rollins says.</p><p>Lester hesitates. “Listen, Pérez, he’s — he’s only part-time. I don’t know anything about this.”</p><p>“The book,” Nick prompts, tone sharp.</p><p>“Under the front desk,” Lester says meekly, getting up and leading them back to the register. While the cashier retrieves the book, Fin peers at the screen showing the camera feeds and turns suddenly to look out of the window.</p><p>“That the van we’re looking for?”</p><p>“Same plates,” Nick says, lunging for the door and meaning to be first out of it, but Rollins yanks him back.</p><p>“You <em> cannot </em> be involved with the arrest,” she says seriously, and then follows Fin in chasing down the van. It pulls into a parking space and stops, but the doors don’t open.</p><p>Nick grits his teeth, a helpless bystander as Fin and Rollins draw their weapons and shout for Pérez to exit the vehicle with his hands up. At his side, Lester huffs irritably. “How many times do I have to tell them these vans are not company cars?”</p><p>It takes all of Nick’s strength not to tackle him. “This is bigger than your little company,” he says without looking away, and Lester splutters indignantly. Pérez emerges from the van and puts his hands on his head as bidden while Rollins searches him. Nick fidgets, hoping against hope that Rafael is still in the back of that van, and watches Fin pull on gloves and open it up.</p><p>It’s empty. Nick exhales, chest tight from holding his breath.</p><p>Rollins gestures him over. “We’ll have to do this in the station too, but,” she wrenches Pérez to his feet, “is this our cab driver?”</p><p>“Yes,” Nick says, keeping the syllable as cold as possible. His heart drums against his ribs. He wants to demand that Pérez tell them where Rafael is, who’s with him, <em> why </em> they took him, but he can’t impede this investigation. Not when Rafael’s life may hang in the balance.</p><p>“You’re under arrest,” Rollins starts, leading Pérez towards the car, “on suspicion of—“</p><p>“Got something!” Fin shouts. Nick jogs around the van to look in the back, where Fin is already kneeling among the filth that crowds the floor. “Gloves,” he adds, and Nick pulls them on so violently he fears they’ll snap. Fin hooks a wrench through a pair of handcuffs, dangling them in the air and making it clear that one of the rings hangs loose and broken. Nick looks away, thoughts going to a dark place, and notices something tucked under a plank of wood.</p><p>“Wait,” he says, advancing so quickly he almost bowls Fin over. “That’s Barba’s.”</p><p>They bag everything that seems immediately pertinent, and Liv surveys the collection of items back at the station.</p><p>“CSU are handling the van?” she asks.</p><p>“On it now,” Fin says. “And Pérez is sweatin’ in Room 1.”</p><p>“Good,” Liv says. To Nick she says, “And you’re sure this is his?”</p><p>Everyone stares hard at the square of fabric. Nick frowns. “Absolutely.”</p><p>“You remembered his pocket square?” Rollins asks in disbelief. “I couldn’t <em> buy </em> a man that attentive.”</p><p>“Unless you’ve all become selectively colourblind,” Nick snaps defensively, “it’s bright pink!”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Liv says placatingly. “Get these back to CSU. Fin, we’re in with Pérez — too many eyes on this thing. Rep from Missing Persons is gonna listen in.”</p><p>Nick’s unable to stifle his yawn and immediately heads for the vending machine. He hears Liv dismiss everyone to chase up other leads, and then she stops behind him.</p><p>“Nick.”</p><p>He weighs getting his drink before turning around, but gives in. “Sarge,” he says, avoiding direct eye contact and clasping shaking hands behind his back.</p><p>“You guys got lucky back there,” Liv says, “but I need you at your best.”</p><p>“Always.”</p><p>Liv sighs. “Stop with the caffeine,” she says. “That’s, what, your third today?” <em> Fourth, or maybe fifth </em> , Nick thinks, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I want you to go home.” Nick opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off. “For God’s sake, Nick, you’re no use to Barba — to <em> Rafael </em> like this.”</p><p>Nick tries to temper his mulish expression. “I can’t leave now,” he says, half-begging. “I want to hear what Pérez has to say. It could be helpful if he talks to me.”</p><p>“Maybe so,” Liv allows. “But for now…”</p><p>Swallowing his objections, Nick nods jerkily and says, “Fine. But I’m sleeping here. And I’m coming with you if anything happens.” He’s vaguely aware of Carisi, passing behind Liv, raising his eyebrows at Nick’s tone. “Look, Sarge, I’m—“</p><p>“It’s okay, Nick.” Liv pauses, and shakes her head. “But if I see you up and about before six, I’ll have you arrested.”</p><p>“Noted,” Nick says, relieved. Only an hour.</p><p>Rollins catches his arm as he passes. “Hey, Nick,” she says, consciously gentling her voice. “I’m — I’m tracking the van’s GPS. We’ll find out where they took Barba.” Nick nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and Rollins lets him go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>your disbelief? suspend it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nick dozes off for maybe twenty minutes, shoes off and the top three buttons of his shirt undone, but can’t stop running through scenarios in his mind. If he’d stayed longer, made sure Rafael locked the door behind him, paid attention to something as simple as the fucking cab driver…</p><p>The pair were amateurs, no doubt about it, and Nick can’t let himself off the hook for being taken in.</p><p>He’s sitting up and lacing his shoes by the time Carisi appears in the doorway. “We got analysis of the fingerprints in Barba’s apartment, plus a partial on the handcuffs in the van.”</p><p>“Same person?” Nick asks, following Carisi into the squadroom.</p><p>“Yeah,” Fin says, nodding in greeting, “and our guy’s not in the system, but we got a familial match from the hairs I found. David Burlington. Barba put him away a year ago. Messy case — guy almost went free.”</p><p>“There’s our motive,” Rollins says, already typing. “He’s got a brother in New York — Richard.”</p><p>“What’d he do?” Nick asks.</p><p>Rollins hesitates, glancing at him, and it’s Fin who eventually says, “First degree rape and attempted murder.”</p><p>Nick blanches and sits down before his legs collapse under him. “Fuck,” he says, head in his hands. “Tell me you got something from Pérez.”</p><p>“Burlington’s got something on him, a parole violation.” Fin shuffles his notes. “Explains the cash. Pérez’s job was to make sure you got home and didn’t suspect anything. Burlington picked him up at a gas station the next day to keep an eye on Barba when he woke up. Dude’s injecting sedatives.”</p><p>“So a doctor, a nurse?”</p><p>Rollins nods. “I rang up his last place of work, a 24-hour clinic; he was fired a couple months back for a bunch of reasons. Late every day, rude to patients, then he just stopped showing up.”</p><p>“Then Burlington drove ‘em out to where he’d stashed his own car. Location matches what we got from the GPS. Knocked Barba out again and that’s the last Pérez saw of him.”</p><p>“Any idea where Burlington took him?” Nick asks, chest going tight again. Pérez was their star witness, and he’d outlived his usefulness awfully fast. Sure, he’d be instrumental in Burlington’s conviction, but Nick wasn’t a lawyer and couldn’t care less about due process right now. Besides, they need Rafael back before there can be any speculation about the court case.</p><p>His heart sinks when Rollins shakes her head. “After Burlington ditched Pérez and the van, he drove it right back to where we found him. He’s heard nothing from Burlington since.”</p><p>“Like he wanted to get caught,” Fin mutters.</p><p>“Well, thank God he did,” Carisi says. To Nick he adds, “We’re checking traffic cams, street cams — something’ll turn up soon.”</p><p>“Where’s Liv?” Nick asks.</p><p>“Gone home to check on Noah,” Fin says, checking his phone. “When she gets back, the two of you are having another go at Pérez. He’s got a guilty conscience.” He pauses. “I know this is tough, but we gotta step it up. What his brother did… Barba could be in more danger than we thought.”</p><p>Nick bites the inside of his cheek, reminding himself Pérez is their last link to Burlington — and Rafael. Much as he wants to march in there and introduce his fist to Pérez’s face, it wouldn’t be helping anyone, and then he’d be off the case completely.</p><p>He joins Rollins and Carisi in sweeping traffic cam photos, mind-numbing work that gives him something to focus on beside the fear crawling down his throat and congealing in his lungs. His fingers shake when they’re not on the keyboard; his foot restlessly taps the floor. Nick catches both Rollins and Carisi separately throwing him concerned glances and makes an effort to stop fidgeting, scanning photos as fast as he can.</p><p>The monotony is broken when Liv returns, a muslin cloth still thrown over her shoulder.</p><p>“Sarge,” Nick says, hiding his first smile in hours and nodding to the cloth, to which Liv chuckles ruefully. He feels a pang at the thought of Zara at that age, missing her toothless smile and scooping her out of her crib at the end of a long day. He tries not to think of Gil, who he’d only seen photos of as an infant; he doesn’t think that guilt will ever go away.</p><p>Liv indicates for him to follow her into her office, and as she’s folding the cloth and tucking her bag away she says, “Has Fin caught you up?”</p><p>Nick nods, folding his arms. He’s had an hour to prepare and still isn’t entirely sure how he’ll react to seeing Pérez’s treacherous face.</p><p>“You’re not there in an interrogation capacity,” Liv says, “you’re there to provoke him — <em>verbally</em>, not too harsh — and get us any details you can. I’ll be there the whole time, as will his lawyer.”</p><p>“He lawyered up?” Nick asks, though he’s not surprised. They caught Pérez in the act; all he can hope for now is a reduced sentence.</p><p>Liv nods. “It was probably for the best,” she says, holding the door for Nick as they exit her office. “On his own, he wouldn’t stop crying.”</p><p>When Pérez sees Nick, it looks like he’s going to burst into tears all over again. “I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says, and it takes everything Nick has not to start shouting. “I didn’t want to do it, he made me—“</p><p>“My client has cooperated fully,” Pérez’s lawyer says tiredly. “Did you really need the additional guilt trip? Howard Gill,” he adds, extending a hand. Nick ignores it, staring at Pérez until the man meets his gaze.</p><p>“Where is he?” Nick demands.</p><p>Gill sighs. “We’ve been <em>over</em> this, Sergeant—“</p><p>“I want to hear it from him,” Nick says. “You drove me away so he could bundle Barba into a van, at <em>gunpoint</em>, and you don’t think that’s your fault?”</p><p>“I wish I hadn’t,” Pérez bursts out, a harder tone breaking through his sniffling. “Okay? I saw you together and I wanted to stop it then and there. It was different once you became real to me.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you stop it, then?” Nick asks, refusing to mellow. “You could’ve said something. Could’ve <em>done</em> something. Instead you stayed his little errand boy.”</p><p>“You don’t know what it’s like.”</p><p>“You think he’s gonna take care of you when he’s arrested? He’s gonna throw you under the bus faster than you can say parole violation.”</p><p>Pérez hesitates, his one card played. “I have children. I can’t go back in.”</p><p>“Well, you’re gonna,” Nick says obstinately, lacking a retort and starting to see red. “Sarge, this is useless.”</p><p>“Agreed,” Liv says. Gill opens his mouth and she cuts him off. “In Burlington’s absence, everyone’s happy taking Pérez down for this. Depending on what’s happening to the ADA, he could go down for a hell of a lot more. Your choice.”</p><p>Nick breathes through his nose, steadying himself on the wall and turning to face the two-way mirror. He watches Gill whisper in Pérez’s ear, sees Liv shake her head at Fin on the other side of the glass.</p><p>He’s about to burst out of the room, grey and clammy walls only heightening the claustrophobic sense of futility setting in, when Gill crooks a finger at him. Nick turns with a snarl, the demeaning gesture doing nothing to calm his roiling temper, and slams his hands on the table.</p><p>“If you don’t give us everything you got,” he hisses, “I will personally ensure you go down, <em>hard</em>, for this. You’re never gonna see the goddamn light of day, pal.”</p><p>Breathing hard, he shakes off Liv’s hand on his shoulder. To his right, Gill says, “Are you done, Detective? Because my client has some information I think you’d like to hear.”</p><p>Nick straightens up slowly, hoping to disguise the way his heart stopped. “Go on,” Liv says. She traces the handwriting already on Pérez’s witness statement with a pen, mouthing the words as she rereads them, and then turns it to face Pérez again. The look she gives Nick makes it clear that he’s to stay silent.</p><p>“I remember it was a Vauxhall, a Vectra,” Pérez says haltingly. He eyes Nick nervously. “White. Muddy, with fingerprints all over the trunk.”</p><p>“That’s a lot to suddenly remember,” Liv says.</p><p>“It is,” Gill says smugly. “So, we can sort out a deal?”</p><p>“If his information is useful,” Nick interjects, and falls silent when Liv steels her jaw.</p><p>“It’s not about the deal,” Pérez says. He extends his hands on the table and waits for Nick to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. I hope you find him.”</p><p>Nick bites the inside of his cheek, anger subsiding but not leaving him entirely mollified. He doesn’t trust his voice, feeling suddenly close to tears, and elects instead to slam out of the room as loudly as he can.</p><p>In the bathroom, he splashes cold water on his face and braces himself on the sink, timing his breathing the way the therapist had taught him. His heart is racing like he’d run a marathon, and it’s several minutes before he feels like he can face the squad without throwing something. The cracked mirror shows him a man quickly fading.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The waiting is killing him.</p><p>Rafael had stayed on his feet at first, refusing to cede an advantage to Burlington, but as the minutes ticked by, he realised his captor wasn’t coming back.</p><p>He’d tried to sleep, blazer folded up under his head on the threadbare sofa, because being unconscious had turned out to be an insufficient replacement for the night’s sleep that had been stolen from him, but couldn’t settle. Rafael prides himself on being able to sleep anywhere and chalks his failure up to the probability of Burlington lurking somewhere in the house with a gun. Two hours of disturbed sleep is better than nothing.</p><p>Little is visible from the unpainted edges of the window, even standing on a chair, but from the dipping and darkening sun, Rafael reckons it’s evening, dinnertime. His stomach grumbles at the thought, but Rafael pays it no mind; he often forgets to eat, buried deep in case files or law books, and despite knowing almost 24 hours had passed, spells of unconsciousness made it seem less so.</p><p>He whirls around upon hearing sudden footsteps and a click in the lock and Burlington bangs into the room, wearing a jacket and a smirk.</p><p>“Just wanted to tell you I’m getting dinner, and you’re not,” he says. “I know you went to Harvard, so you’ll have figured out this basement is pretty damn soundproof. Don’t try anything stupid. I got eyes on your pig, and I got you.”</p><p>Rafael doesn’t think the statement requires an answer, but when Burlington takes a menacing step forward, he nods quickly and says, “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay,” Burlington says with a grin. “Think I’ll have a nice, juicy steak. Maybe I’ll have the waitress who serves it to me, too.”</p><p>Steeling his jaw, Rafael attempts to look bored, or at least anything other than showing the fear pumping adrenaline into his veins. “You won’t get away with this,” he chooses to say, almost relieved when Burlington laughs. “When you get back here, I’ll be gone.”</p><p>“Sure, Counsellor,” Burlington says. “And if you could see out of that window, there’d be flyin’ pigs.” He snorts. “Not your friends, either.”</p><p>When he leaves, Rafael listens carefully for the key in the lock, disappointed when it clicks and leaves him alone once more. Burlington is true to his word: ear to the basement door, Rafael hears the front door when it slams, near enough shaking the house.</p><p>He hopes to God Burlington isn’t going out to assault some poor girl, some overworked waitress whose professional smile and manners are taken as an invitation, even consent.</p><p>Guiltily, he wonders if that would make him safer.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nick’s almost glad that it’s Fin and Rollins who’ve been sent to get some rest, rather than Carisi: it would be too quiet without him. The humming and whistling and tapping of his foot could drive Nick up the wall if he let it get to him; today, it’s a welcome distraction. They’re still poring over traffic cam photos, eyes sore from bending close to a screen for hours, but Nick knows that if he stops, he’s going to break down.</p><p>“Sarge!” Carisi calls suddenly, and Nick stands up so fast he almost knocks his chair over. “Got a hit on the car!”</p><p>He doesn’t try to fight Liv for space looking over Carisi’s shoulder, and hovers awkwardly beside the desk.</p><p>“White Vectra, headed out of the city. It’s them.”</p><p>“What time?” Liv asks.</p><p>“Half past three, just about. Backs up Pérez’s story.”</p><p>“You got a plate?”</p><p>Carisi nods, cracking a smile. “Loud and clear. I’ll get the info to Missing Persons for the alert.”</p><p>Liv claps him on the shoulder. “Good work,” she says gratefully.</p><p>Rollins is up within the hour, waving off Liv’s concern and snapping open her laptop. “We get anything from his cell?”</p><p>“He’s had it turned off since he picked Pérez up at the gas station; that’s when it last pinged,” Nick says, distracted by an alert. “He can’t be that stupid,” he mutters to himself, typing frantically.</p><p>“What?” Carisi says, suddenly at his shoulder.</p><p>Nick tries not to jump, scowling at him. “Just used his credit card at a restaurant in Albany.”</p><p>“We’ll get officers out there now,” Liv says, coming over.</p><p>“Wait,” Rollins says, peering over Nick’s other shoulder. He ignores the three of them breathing down his neck. “I know that neighbourhood. I saw it earlier…” She trails off, jogging back to her own screen. “David was arrested at his home… at his parents’ home! Same neighbourhood.”</p><p>“What, he didn’t even try to distance himself from the house for dinner?” Carisi asks incredulously. “Sounds like bait.”</p><p>“I mean, he’s been a godawful kidnapper so far,” Rollins says. “Fingerprints everywhere, not hiding from cameras, using a van easily traced back to them. Guy’s an amateur. He’s just slippin’ up more the longer this goes on.”</p><p>Liv ignores the speculation, striding back to her office. “Get me that address,” she calls to Rollins, closing the door behind her.</p><p>Nick knows she can’t share her next moves yet, but imagines she’s calling tactical and the brass for advice on how to proceed. He knows how <em>he</em> wants to proceed — guns blazing and getting his hands around Burlington’s filthy neck — but knows that wouldn’t fly.</p><p>“I should’ve realised earlier,” Rollins is saying with a groan, leaned back in her chair and rubbing her eyes. “I feel half as stupid as the perp. ‘Course he’s gone to Mommy and Daddy’s house. We’ve had that address for hours.”</p><p>“Can’t change it now,” Nick says, surprised by the steadiness of his voice. “We’d better get building plans, satellite view of the neighbourhood. I don’t want tactical shutting us out of this.”</p><p>Carisi and Rollins nod, struck by the serious tone, and get to work. Nick pulls up whatever he can find, and as a quick aside discovers that Mrs Burlington and her late husband are in Florida, in a second home untainted by hostages. She’ll have to be contacted once Burlington is in custody — <em>or hospital</em>, Nick thinks maliciously — but for now, it’s unlikely she has any idea what her youngest son is up to.</p><p>When Liv emerges, everyone looks up.</p><p>“Carisi, you’re punching out soon,” she says, tone brooking no argument.</p><p>“It’s only ten,” Carisi protests.</p><p>“We’re gearing up for something big,” Liv says tiredly, and Nick sits up straighter. “Tactical wants to move at first light. You got the house plans?”</p><p>“We’ve all studied them,” Rollins says, articulating everyone’s fear that they won’t be chosen for the extraction. Usually it <em>would</em> be up to tactical — especially for an ADA — but Nick is sure Liv will let them fight for their own.</p><p>For the first time, Nick notices the deep shadows beneath her eyes. He knows she and Rafael are close, too, and hadn’t considered speaking to the one person who knows what he’s going through. But there’s always the risk of divulging too much, showing his hand; even Liv can’t ignore direct evidence that one of her detectives is too close to this.</p><p>In the end, it’s Carisi who asks the question. “You’re takin’ us, right Sarge?”</p><p>Liv nods, but Nick pushes further. “And we’ll be the ones taking him down?”</p><p>“My office,” Liv says after a moment. Nick reluctantly follows her in, glancing away from Carisi, who’s on the phone and tries to make eye contact.</p><p>Liv indicates he should sit down, closing the door quietly behind them, but Nick stays standing, wanting to pace.</p><p>“This a reprimand?” he asks.</p><p>“That depends,” Liv says.</p><p>Nick looks her in the eye as she comes to stand opposite him, hands clasped placidly in front of her. “I want to be first in the room.”</p><p>He gets the feeling she’s trying not to laugh, but when he sets his jaw, a line appears between her eyebrows. “You can’t think I’d let you take point,” she says in disbelief. “You’re too involved, Nick! I can’t trust you with this.”</p><p>“I can do it,” Nick says doggedly.</p><p>“You can’t stand here and tell me you don’t want to beat Burlington’s face in. You wouldn’t lie to my face like that.”</p><p>Nick stares her down, not budging an inch, but he’s faltering. It’s true that his need to be first in the room comes primarily from a place of attack, not a wish to defend. Of course he wants Rafael safe, first and foremost, but getting his hands on Burlington can easily be part of the rescue plan. “Whatever it took to neutralise the threat.”</p><p>He wants to shove the cold metal of his gun against Burlington’s back, watch the sweat and fear gather there; wants to hear the tremble in his voice, the shivering staccato as he pleads for his life; wants to watch him rot in a goddamn cell... if only they could <em>find</em> <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Reasonable force?” Liv says, shaking her head. “Come on, Nick. You and I both know—“</p><p>“It’s our word against his,” Nick says. He hesitates, then goes for it. “I thought you of all people would understand.”</p><p>“Low blow,” Liv says coldly. She walks around her desk to hide how her hands have curled into fists.</p><p>Nick grits his teeth in an attempt not to scowl at her, reminding himself that he’s asking <em>her</em> for a favour. “Please, Liv,” he says, shoving down the fury rising inside him. “I have to. For Rafael.”</p><p>“Is this what he’d want?” Liv asks. She’s not softening either, mouth a grim line, but there’s mercy in her voice.</p><p>“I want to do this for him,” Nick says. The words don’t come out right. He’s not trying to paint it as a noble cause, to justify the brutality he wants to put Burlington through, but an eye for an eye seems just, seems fair, for the damage he’s wrought.</p><p>“Why, Nick?” Liv asks, and this time her tone is gentle, like Nick is a child throwing a tantrum, and it snaps something inside him.</p><p>“I was the last to see him!” he bursts out. “I should’ve made sure he locked the door behind him, I should’ve called him sooner — I should be finding him faster! And all I can do is yell at the hapless bastard who helped take him from me!”</p><p>He’s panting when he finishes, blood vibrating through his veins and lungs too small for the air he gulps at like a lifeline. Everything is too much all at once, the fluorescent light overhead making him flinch, and he strains to interpret Liv’s silence as she watches him crumble.</p><p>“You feel responsible,” she says quietly.</p><p>Even in this state, Nick doesn’t dare reply with insolence and just nods, dropping his head low like a bad dog. At least Liv has the heart not to rub his nose in his shit.</p><p>“It’s not your fault,” she says. “And Rafael would never blame you.”</p><p>“I know,” Nick says haltingly, unable to look at her. “I just — I wanted to protect him. I failed.”</p><p>That’s what it really comes down to, he realises. He’d begun to think of Rafael as under his protection, as one of a small circle he’d drop everything for in a heartbeat, as one he’d do anything to shield from harm. It’d been building for a while, long before he worked up the courage to ask Rafael on a <em>real</em> date rather than late night conversations over coffee in the office, and now it breaks over Nick like a tsunami.</p><p>“Nick,” Liv is saying, approaching with open palms as Nick throws himself into a chair and trembles there. “Nick, this is not on you.”</p><p>His voice rasps as he tries to speak, lending it a hysterical edge. “I can’t help it,” he says, thoughts spiralling away before he can vocalise them. “Nothing, nothing helps, I can’t — I just have to find him. Please.”</p><p>“Everyone’s working as hard as they can,” Liv says. Some part of Nick recognises she’s taken a maternal tone rather than that of a commanding officer telling an inferior to buck up, but can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed. She takes the chair next to him, a hand on his arm, and Nick makes eye contact despite the urge to put his head between his knees and gasp for breath. “We move around dawn, okay? It’ll be over before you know it.”</p><p>“Rafael doesn’t know it,” Nick says with difficulty. “I hate to think of him — <em>alone</em>—“</p><p>Fin knocks on the door but doesn’t come in, eyes darting between the two of them.</p><p>“He’s not alone,” Liv says, beckoning Fin in. “We’re all right beside him.”</p><p>“Everyone’s here for the meet,” Fin says. “You guys good?”</p><p>Nick takes advantage of facing away from him, blinking back hot tears and taking a deep breath through his nose. “We’re good,” he says, thankful when his voice doesn’t crack.</p><p>Liv’s presentation with the head of tactical doesn’t tell them much they didn’t already know, but Nick perks up when Perry says, “We’ve tried calling the landline; no answer. We’ve also tried getting in touch with Edith Darton, the waitress who left with Burlington, but her cell’s off and she’s no longer at the motel. Burlington paid cash and didn’t stay long.”</p><p>“Signs of a struggle?” Rollins asks.</p><p>Perry shakes his head. “Nothing to indicate the sex wasn’t consensual,” he says, “but we’re tracking her down. We’ve got plainclothes officers stationed at the house: he didn’t bring her home with him, but he hasn’t left since. No sign of Barba.”</p><p>He and Liv run through the plan twice. It seems straightforward enough, despite Nick’s lingering irritation that he won’t be allowed anywhere near Burlington, and Fin nods at him when they make eye contact.</p><p>“Who’s in front of this?” Perry asks, turning to Liv. Nick half-wonders if it’s for show; glancing around the room, he can see officers start to whisper. Rollins shrugs next to him.</p><p>“Detective Carisi,” Liv says. Inadvertently, Nick raises his eyebrows, then hopes Carisi didn’t see.</p><p>He knows Carisi is a capable detective, trusts him with his life, but the assignment tastes bitter in his mouth. Some part of him — protective to a fault, to the point of jealousy and that awful need to possess — wants to be first in that room, to cuff Burlington’s hands behind his back and know he can never hurt Rafael again. It’s not enough to know he’ll be among the first at Rafael’s side. </p><p>“—so we’re at our best,” Perry is saying when Nick tunes back in, stifling a yawn. “So get some shut-eye and I’ll see you back here at 3am sharp.”</p><p>Nick says a quick goodnight to Fin and Rollins, trying not to linger, and then heads for the door. Carisi catches up with him.</p><p>“Look, I’m sorry the Sarge doesn’t want you to take point,” he says. For once, Nick appreciates how straightforward he is. “But I wanna get this guy just as much as you.” To Nick’s raised eyebrow, he amends, “Maybe not <em>as </em>much, but I care about Barba, alright? Who else is gonna teach me law?”</p><p>Nick chuckles despite himself. “You’ll do great in there,” he says offhandedly, and can’t help but feel awkward at the way Carisi beams at him. “Listen,” he says, unsure of what he’s going to say before it comes out, “thanks for not treating me with kid gloves. God knows everyone else does.”</p><p>“Dose of reality, that’s me,” Carisi says. “They don’t mean anything by it.”</p><p>“I know,” Nick says uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how to end the conversation, so claps Carisi on the shoulder. “Sleep well, alright?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rafael tries everything: pressing himself close to the door, he shouts for help until his throat is hoarse, and strikes the window with a pool cue as many times as he dares. Either no one’s out there, or no one cares.</p><p>The night drags on. He tortures himself with thoughts of the waitresses at Burlington’s mercy until he falls into a restless sleep, tossing and turning and finding himself awake at the very edge of the sofa as a door slams upstairs.</p><p>He’s on his feet in an instant, darting to the opposite end of the room with his heart in his throat. Dreading the thought of Burlington discovering the hidden pool cues, he throws himself into one of the dining chairs and digs his nails into his palm until he feels awake.</p><p>Lacking a frame of reference, Rafael is unsure how long he slept, but he’s sure it’s deep into the night. He can smell it when Burlington mounts the stairs, bringing with him a self-satisfied smirk and the scent of a woman who wears too much perfume.</p><p>“Barbie!”</p><p><em>That’s a new one</em>, Rafael thinks, but he’s no longer able to find the humour in it, in any of this. He knows SVU will be working as hard as they can, but every second he spends in Burlington’s presence is in fear for his dignity, his life.</p><p>“Aren’t you pleased to see me?” Burlington asks, smirk dying a little and making Rafael’s pulse jump.</p><p>“Of course,” he says dryly. “Was she?” he adds. He instantly regrets it; Burlington realises it’s a stick to beat him with. </p><p>“No, not at first,” Burlington says, smile spreading once more. “But I made her.” Raphael catches his intake of breath before it’s audible. “<em>Made</em> her pleased. Little Edie probably ran right home to her daddy after. I didn’t stick around to find out.”</p><p>Rafael closes his eyes for a moment, regret thick in his throat as he remembers thinking — if not <em>hoping</em> — that Burlington finding a woman would redirect his vicious energy away from Rafael, that it would earn him a reprieve. Even so, he can’t believe Burlington would be so stupid as to lay a trail, hoping that trail leads SVU right back to this house and this basement, and that he would confess a second crime when kidnapping an ADA is heavy enough. Fortuitous at best; dangerously ignorant at worst.</p><p>“You raped her,” he says, sick about it.</p><p>“I gave her a gift,” Burlington snaps. “It’s not my fault women are so shortsighted — they can’t see that I’m much better than those jock types who come in and slap their asses as they pass the tables. They aren’t <em>men</em>.”</p><p>Rafael isn’t surprised in the least that Burlington is one of those people who can’t get over how they were treated in high school, who continue to catalogue the population into <em>jocks</em> and <em>cheerleaders</em> and <em>nerds</em>, who spend the rest of their life punishing others for what they suffered. He can picture Burlington chafing in class as the popular kids passed notes over his desk, threw screwed-up bits of paper at the back of his head. He can picture how such a boy never grew into a man.</p><p>Burlington scoffs when Rafael doesn’t reply, and without warning produces a used, and thankfully tied, condom from his pocket, dangling it from his fingers and coming closer before throwing it at Rafael’s feet with an unpleasant splat.</p><p>Bile rises in Rafael’s throat and he turns his head away, forcing himself to swallow with a painful gulp. His palms grow clammy as he shivers, not daring to look at Burlington and invite further comment, further action. Stomach roiling, he finally takes a much-needed breath and glares up at Burlington.</p><p>“There’s more where that came from,” Burlington says smugly, though Rafael doubts it. The spectacle is over. “But first, I wanna pick your brain. Sit over there.”</p><p>His hand goes to his back, where Rafael knows the gun is in his waistband like every goddamn cliché, and Rafael can do nothing but obey, sitting straighter than he’d ever deigned to in Catholic school despite the ratty sofa sinking in the middle, pulling him down with it.</p><p>“You seem like a busy man,” he says unconvincingly. “I’m sure you have better things to do than talk to me.”</p><p>“Nah,” Burlington says, hauling a dining chair toward the sofa. The drag of wood across the concrete floor is ear-splitting, and it’s an effort not to wince. Burlington just grins. “Me and you, we’re gonna talk about my brother.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning for some homophobic and sexist ideas espoused by burlington</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nick sleeps fitfully, dreaming in fragments he can hardly touch before they slip out of his grasp. He dreams that Rafael is sleeping beside him, but wakes, aching, to find him gone once more.</p><p>His body, free from the responsibility placed squarely on Carisi’s shoulders, refuses to cooperate, waking him intermittently until his alarm goes off and he feels like he hasn’t slept at all.</p><p>He makes time for a shower, the lukewarm spray doing its best to wake him up, and grabs an apple on his way out in deference to his grumbling stomach. By the time he’s behind the wheel, he feels somewhat human again.</p><p>The night is clear and damp, the moon bone-white in a cloudless sky, and Nick thinks of the time he and Maria and Zara drove out to the country and Zara couldn’t believe how many stars shone above them. It was enough to make him resent the city, at least a little.</p><p>He resents it more now it’s taken Rafael from him.</p><p>Returning to the squadroom is the worst kind of déjà vu, making him half-expect to see Rafael leaning over the desk with Liv, but it’s just her and she turns when he comes in.</p><p>“Nick,” she says, surprised. “You’re early.”</p><p>Nick brushes her comment off with a shrug, taking one step towards the vending machine before noticing they’re near enough alone in the room, other officers relegated to the computers lining the walls.</p><p>“How’re you holding up?” he asks, and means it.</p><p>Liv looks at him sharply, and Nick maintains a placid expression. He doesn’t blame her for questioning his motives, for wondering if he’s trying to earn something from her. He’s raised her suspicions enough for one day.</p><p>“I’m fine,” she says, tone softening enough to let Nick know they’re still good. “I’ll be better when this is all over.”</p><p>Nick nods. His fury has cooled to a low simmer, but he can see that holding him back is the best decision. He couldn’t forgive himself if he jeopardised Rafael’s safety or Burlington’s ultimate conviction. “I know you guys are close,” he presses, and then, to her raised eyebrows, “You’ve put up with me all day, s’only fair.”</p><p>“We are,” Liv allows. Nick glimpses half a smile and decides it’s good enough for now. “We should get together, when he's ready. God knows Rafael deserves a round — or several.”</p><p>“You’ll have to drag him away from his own case first,” Nick says, and at that Liv cracks a real smile.</p><p>“He’ll be insufferable,” she says.</p><p>Nick takes the lapse in conversation to get a Redbull, grimacing as he rubs a hand over his 5 o’clock shadow. He wanders the squad room, tuning out the constant clamour of telephones ringing off the hook and inspecting the theory board. It hurts to see Rafael’s face up there, a victim, and it’s strange to see a screenshot of the two of them outside Rafael’s apartment, leaning into each other’s space with unmistakable intimacy.</p><p><em>Stranger still to think of all the UOs who’ve looked at the photo</em>, Nick thinks grimly. It’s hardly the way he wanted this to come out, if they’d decided to go public at all. For all Nick knows, Rafael might have been planning to break it off today.</p><p>He doesn’t like the thought, and puts it away for another time, a time when Rafael is living rather than surviving.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“It is <em>open season</em> on men!” Burlington exclaims. “They got my brother and they’ll get you too, just watch — they’ll turn on you in a second if it means advancing their agenda.”</p><p>Rafael leans back when Burlington leans forward, avoiding being in spitting range as much as possible, but saliva flecks adorn the air around Burlington regardless. The words in Burlington’s mouth are not his own, and he speaks with an eagerness that reveals how deeply the ideas have resonated with him. Rafael pities him, likely left to his own devices after his brother’s arrest, turning to internet forums that gave him the kind of support he couldn’t get anywhere else, radicalising him faster than the president’s wildest dreams.</p><p>Burlington gave enough details, biased as they were, for Rafael to remember his brother’s case. It was almost perfect — DNA evidence, perp already in the system, a credible witness — and yet it almost all came crashing down, because the victim had undisclosed history with Burlington the senior and broke down on the stand. John Buchanan tore her to pieces. Rafael had treated himself to an excellent Scotch after the miraculous guilty verdict.</p><p>“Females these days cry rape at the drop of the hat,” Burlington is saying when Rafael tunes back in. “They can’t be drunk, or on drugs, and you can’t even talk them into it anymore! They ruined my life!”</p><p>“That must have hurt your sex life,” Rafael says dryly. It’s almost funny, watching Burlington spiral out of control, but Rafael’s his collateral. Burlington is not a man who likes to be laughed at.</p><p>“Fucking ruined it!” Burlington shouts, without a trace of irony. “So yeah, maybe Dave was hard up, okay? It’s not his <em>fault</em>. You know blue balls are proven to cause disease, right? There’s medical evidence.”</p><p>Rafael raises his eyes to heaven in a silent plea, and in doing so notices a shadow pass over the sunlight shining through the cracks in the blacked out window. His eyes dart to the pool cue, hidden just out of his reach behind the TV stand, and then to Burlington, whose ranting and raving hasn’t paused in the absence of Rafael’s attention.</p><p>No neighbour or passerby would come that close to the house, but Rafael knows he has to wait. He can’t risk moving too soon and Burlington getting him in a chokehold with a knife or even the gun, facing off against uniformed officers with every advantage on Burlington’s side. He imagines Nick, if they’ve agreed to bring him along or even let him work the case at all, watching helplessly as Burlington issues an ultimatum and presses the knife to Rafael’s neck until it beads blood.</p><p>“<em>Every</em> white man is under attack, right now,” Burlington says. “And if you’re straight then you’re an enemy, right? Born wrong. Isn’t that what we used to say about you people?”</p><p>Rafael’s pulse jumps. He grits his teeth, hoping that keeping his head down will keep him safe, will let Burlington’s attention wash over him, but Burlington tips his chin up with the hunting knife, which trembles in his sweaty fingers.</p><p>“People like you,” he spits, “put my brother away. You’re just one of their weapons — you think they respect you because you fight on their side? You already lost, being born male. Once they get tired of you, they’ll hang you too.”</p><p>“<em>I</em> haven’t done anything wrong,” Rafael says, a reflex, and Burlington draws the knife back violently enough to cut him. He flinches, hands coming up to protect himself, but Burlington jumps to his feet and stalks away from him.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” he says, quieter now, more dangerous. “They’ll find something. They’ll make it up. Just like that stupid bitch who got David.”</p><p>Rafael stands up, something crashing over him — adrenaline, probably, along with the sense that he can’t sit here and let Burlington’s ramblings go unchecked, the same instinct that had led him to practise law, to give voice to the voiceless. “There was DNA evidence,” he says, matching Burlington’s subdued tone. “There was a witness. He was near enough caught at the scene of the damn crime. And you don’t think—“</p><p>Burlington had been facing away from him, hands over his ears. Now he turns, and Rafael’s courage shrivels right back to where it came from; Burlington’s flushed with excitement, red blotches crawling up his neck, and it makes the white of his eyes livid in comparison, rolling and mad in their sockets.</p><p>Rafael isn’t quick enough. Burlington circles back around, coming from the right as Rafael stays close to the wall, leaving him with nowhere to go when Burlington’s fist hits his face. The thick black ring Rafael had noticed and dismissed splits his cheek, skin coming apart like paper. His stomach turns at the fragility of it. Rafael staggers backwards, striking his hip on the TV unit but staying on his feet, one hand on the unit for balance and one knee bent. Burlington’s bigger, clumsier than him; with more space to move, Rafael is sure he can evade him this time. His cheek will bruise, but his ego can take the hit.</p><p>Burlington advances, yanking the gun from his waistband and Rafael says a quick prayer, but they both hear it at the same time.</p><p>“Police! Search warrant!”</p><p>Relief swims through him so fast he almost falls to his knees, but stays upright through some act of God. Shock flashes over Burlington’s face too late before the front door upstairs is busted in. Rafael wants to yell for help, let them know where they are, but his throat is sewn shut. His paralysis lasts until Burlington turns his back, whirling around and approaching the bottom of the stairs, hesitating there as if he never expected to get caught, as if he wasn’t prepared to fire that gun he was so fond of brandishing.</p><p>He no longer appears conscious of Rafael’s presence, so Rafael takes advantage of his momentary distraction to slide the pool cue from behind the unit. The drag of wood against the floor makes a slick sound like a knife coming out of its sheath, but Rafael is ever-conscious of his inability to defend himself should Burlington snap out of his daze. He waits as long as he dares, inching closer while Burlington debates whether to mount the stairs and make some perfunctory last stand.</p><p>Footsteps come closer. Rafael thinks or imagines he can hear officers conferring by the basement door.</p><p>He throws all his weight into the swing, the tawdry weapon infused with nothing but desperation and hope, and the cue breaks across Burlington’s shoulder blades, splintering in time with the door being kicked in, loud enough that Rafael is afraid for a moment that Burlington fired the gun.</p><p>Carisi seems to take five stairs at a time, barely recognisable behind the riot gear. “Drop the gun!” he barks. Burlington seems to come back to himself, fingers flexing on the gun as he turns and lunges for Rafael, but Carisi tackles him to the ground mid-movement, the gun spinning across the concrete. Rafael backs up regardless, still gripping what’s left of the cue with all his strength and refusing to let himself take the breath of relief his body is aching for.</p><p>There are eyes on him, worried and pitying and assessing and wary, and Rafael forces himself to drop the cue. It’s evidence, he reminds himself. He couldn’t hang onto it forever, reassuring as that would be.</p><p>Carisi yields Burlington to the officer who came in just behind him and Rafael tracks him with his eyes, handcuffed and being read his rights as he’s hauled upstairs. He isn’t sure he’ll see Burlington again: he’ll take a plea, sparing Rafael a trial but not the interviews, giving his statement, having his life dissected, having <em>Nick’s</em> life dissected. It’s hardly what either of them signed up for when they agreed to a date on Wednesday night.</p><p>“Barba,” Carisi’s saying urgently, a hand on his shoulder. “You alright? You hurt anywhere else? We got a bus for you.”</p><p>Rafael’s barely listening; there appears to be an altercation at the top of the stairs, and he strains to hear. He doubted that Burlington would give them any trouble, not now he’s been subdued for a final time. The takedown was easy, clean; something that Burlington, a wannabe resistance soldier, would find humiliating.</p><p>“Just let me see him!” someone yells, and he realises it’s Nick’s voice.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Liv had let him come in just as Burlington was being led out. She keeps a hand on Nick's arm as they walk past, cautious after his outburst, but in the end Nick doesn’t feel the need to confront him: the man is walking hunched over and grimacing. Viciously, Nick hopes it hurts.</p><p>“You son of a bitch,” he says as they pass, unable to help himself.</p><p>He recoils when Burlington raises his head, skin mottled and unseemly. “Your boyfriend’s been crying for you,” he says with vitriol, some last gasp at rebellion, and Nick contents himself by curling his hands into fists and finding the strength to keep them at his sides.</p><p>“Like your brother’s crying for you?” Nick asks, satisfied when Burlington blanches. “You’ll be seeing him soon, I bet.”</p><p>“Fuck you,” Burlington spits, and with that the officer holding him jerks him forward, out of Nick’s sight and quickly out of mind as he glances at the basement door, knowing they haven’t brought Rafael up yet.</p><p>Liv’s hand tightens when he goes to keep walking. “Nick, maybe that’s not the best idea.”</p><p>Outside, the bus is arriving, and Nick wants to see Rafael <em>now</em>, not after a couple hours of agonising in the goddamn waiting room and being told it’s family only.</p><p>“Now,” he says firmly, aware of Fin coming up behind him.</p><p>“Liv, I’ll go down with him,” Fin says. “What’s he gonna do to Barba, kidnap him?”</p><p>Liv sighs, and with that Nick knows he’s won.</p><p>He feels half-drunk, stumbling down the stairs in a rush before Liv can revoke her permission. Fin grabs for his arm and Nick darts out of his reach, landing unexpectedly and only pausing a few feet from Carisi and Rafael.</p><p>“Rafael,” he breathes, overtaken for a moment by pure, sweet relief. And then Nick looks at him, <em>really</em> looks at him, and can’t breathe all over again.</p><p>Rafael’s <em>bleeding</em>, for one thing, blood dripping from a cut on his chin and spilling from the slit in his cheek. His eye socket is just beginning to swell and bruise, and Nick realises with a flash of anger that it could’ve been prevented, had they arrived earlier. Logically he knows they couldn’t have moved any earlier than first light, but looking at Rafael now, he wishes more than ever he’d waited for Rafael to lock his damn door.</p><p>No one’s spoken since they entered the room, and Carisi nods at Fin, who’s contemplating Nick like he’s a science exhibit. Nick takes a step closer, the mantra of <em>calm control composed</em> echoing in his head, wanting more than anything to touch Rafael, to feel that he’s real, and then he sees a condom, a goddamn <em>condom</em> on the floor, and goes rigid.</p><p>The first words out of his mouth are, “Did he touch you?”</p><p>He scans Rafael’s body with something close to terror, noting his clothes are intact, hands still manicured, if not clean. But physical evidence doesn’t stop his mind working, doesn’t stop him picturing Rafael trapped in this basement for 12 hours, at the mercy of Burlington and his knife and his <em>gun</em>, imagining what a human could be driven to in order to survive. Rafael’s courage is different to his, confidence born in the courtroom, not from carrying a gun and badge and the full authority of the law. Nick doesn’t know what Rafael would do. What he has done.</p><p>Hearing Rafael’s voice is like a balm for his soul, hoarse as it is. “What?”</p><p>Nick tries to remind himself that Rafael’s out of it, hasn’t eaten, probably hasn’t slept, but his body isn’t his own anymore, red flashes searing his vision. “I said, did he <em>touch</em> you?” He’s yelling, suddenly, clenching his fists to stop his fingers from shaking and unable to relax them even as Rafael’s gaze turns fearful. He wants to run upstairs, seize Burlington and kick his fucking head in, feeling dizzy with the force of his fury. “Did he fucking touch you, Rafael?”</p><p>Rafael’s mouth moves, but nothing comes out. His eyes are wide, wary. His hands are together in front of him, nails digging painful crescent moons into his palm. </p><p>“Nick, cool it,” Fin’s saying, but Nick violently shakes off the hand on his arm, stepping out of Fin’s range, eyes on Rafael, who’s just watching him, speechless.</p><p>“Answer me,” he demands, voice cracking right down the middle. “I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll kill him.” When he moves this time, Fin yanks him back, making him stumble, but not fast enough to miss that Rafael <em>flinches</em>. Carisi looks unsure whether to defend or attack, moving his body between the two of them and opening his mouth to speak.</p><p>“No,” Rafael says suddenly, and they all stop. “<em>No</em>, he didn’t touch me, I’m fine, I’m <em>fine</em>, God, Nick—“ The way he looks at Nick then douses Nick’s rage like a bucket of water, the horror in his voice making Nick back off. He’s the bad guy here, he realises. “Nick,” Rafael repeats helplessly, the word trailing into nothingness and spiking Nick’s guilt.</p><p>Nick blinks. The second wave of relief isn’t as sweet as the first. “He didn’t,” he repeats quietly, and Rafael nods.</p><p>“He went out,” he says, one hand absently swiping at the blood on his face. Nick wonders when Rafael last had an injury worse than a papercut. Rafael's breath hitches, throat moving as he swallows. “He raped someone. Said her name was Edie.”</p><p>“We don’t think he raped her,” Carisi says, and the softness of his voice stands in stark and terrible contrast to Nick’s temper.</p><p>“Come <em>on</em>, big man,” Fin says, tone brooking no argument, hand on the centre of Nick’s chest and pushing. “Take that outside.”</p><p>He lets Fin pull him away, half-listens to muffled threats in his ear and watches Carisi put a hand on Rafael’s arm, talking to him in a low voice. Rafael only has eyes for Nick and Nick tries to decipher his gaze, tries to find forgiveness he does not deserve, tries to radiate regret and remorse and <em>I’m sorry I scared you with my fear I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The hospital is clean, crisp, timeless with its fluorescent lights and constant bustle of people. Nick sits in the waiting room with his head in his hands and Liv right next to him, saving the reprimand for a time they’re not so highly strung. She’s gonna give him hell later, and God knows he deserves it, but for now they sit in silence and take it in turns to fetch coffee.</p><p>Paramedics had arrived not long after Nick had gone downstairs, and he’d suffered their raised eyebrows as Fin hauled him out. Truthfully, he doesn’t need a reprimand from Liv or Fin’s reproachful expression to feel guilty: shame washes over him in waves, and it’s only heightened the longer they wait. By the time the doctor comes out to see them, he feels like curling up into a ball and letting the world pass him by.</p><p>“How is he?” Nick asks immediately, jumping to his feet so fast his head starts pounding.</p><p>“Stable,” the doctor replies, “if dehydrated and exhausted. We’ve got him on an IV to get his fluids up.”</p><p>Liv nods, standing beside him. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Can I see him?” Nick asks. He’s probably the last person Rafael wants to see right now, perhaps beside Burlington, but he wants to make this right. Selfishly, he wants to know that things are okay between them.</p><p>“He’s asleep,” the doctor says apologetically. “And won’t be taking visitors until tomorrow at the earliest.”</p><p>Nick opens his mouth and Liv hurriedly says, “Thanks, Doc,” and the man nods and is out of sight in seconds.</p><p>“One step at a time,” Liv says. She sighs, consternation visible in her expression. “Look, we both know you crossed a line. I’m not going to write you up but, Nick, if you do something like that again…” She trails off, unwilling to make the threat. Nick hates that he’s put her in this position.</p><p>“It won’t happen again,” he blurts out. Tempers were running high, especially his, and the panic had clawed its way out of his throat. That’s on him. “I wanted to apologise to him. Today.”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Liv says, not unkindly. “You’ll feel better after some sleep. Rushing in guns blazing never helped anyone.”</p><p>Nick concedes the point.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rafael’s mouth is dry when he wakes, parched like he’d spent seven days in a desert rather than less than 36 hours on the run. He nearly drops the jug of water on the bedside table, slipping and spilling in his hands, but manages to pour himself a glass. Or, rather, a plastic cup.</p><p>The throbbing in his shoulder hasn’t abated, and Rafael can’t help but feel embarrassed that he’s so out of shape that swinging a pool cue caused him to pull a muscle. It’s hardly a heroic injury in the line of duty. Not that lawyers see much front-line action.</p><p>He ignores the call button, choosing instead to catalogue his aches and pains and reconstruct the timeline of the kidnapping in his head. Rafael can’t imagine lying up in a hospital bed, no use to Olivia’s case or Burlington’s conviction, and letting others do the heavy lifting. He wishes things weren’t so hazy when Burlington was sticking him with sedatives every couple hours; it’s those kinds of gaps in time that make a jury question credibility. They caught him in the act, sure, but Rafael can see Burlington’s defence attempting to pin the accomplice with more than his share of the blame.</p><p>It’s about an hour before a nurse appears on her rounds — Rafael remembers with dismay that his watch had mysteriously vanished — and she clucks disapprovingly with an unmistakably maternal manner.</p><p>“Mr Barba,” she says, advancing with a thermometer and thrusting it unceremoniously under his tongue. “You should have called someone in.”</p><p>“I had some things to go over,” Rafael says, muffled.</p><p>“The only paperwork you’ll be doing is some hospital forms,” says the nurse.</p><p>“Yes, nurse,” Rafael says ironically, meaning no disrespect but having little patience for the coddling. He’s <em>fine</em> — two paracetamol and a plaster will fix him right up. His cheek, adorned with two stitches as a badge of honour, only smarts a little. He touches them and she swats his hand away.</p><p>“Frieda,” she says, thumbing over his cheek herself and raising his head to examine his chin, which he assumes bears no more injury than the average cat scratch. “I hope you haven’t been aggravating your injuries.”</p><p>Rafael shakes his head meekly. “Can I have visitors today?”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Frieda says, apologetic. “We’re keeping you under observation; no excitement. Someone’s taking your statement later, though.”</p><p>Logically, Rafael knows it’ll be Liv. He allows himself a moment of wishful thinking, imagining she’ll bring Nick with her, but knows Nick will have to wait until visitation hours.</p><p>He’d looked awful last night — this morning, he corrects himself — and even thinking of it makes Rafael’s heartbeat spike. Nick had been pale, dark shadows dimming his eyes and stubble darkening his jaw. He looked like he got as much sleep as Rafael did, and it’s not like either of them get more than five hours as is.</p><p>But the anger, Christ. Nick could be fully rested and fly off the handle. He hadn’t been pale for long, colour coming to his cheeks as he started shouting. Something stings and Rafael realises he’s been fidgeting with his stitches, throwing the closed door a guilty look.</p><p>He doesn’t hold it against Nick. Despite his fear, despite the secondary flare-up of panic even after Burlington had been taken away. He’d been exhausted and dehydrated and fit to collapse, and Nick was nothing more than the straw that broke the camel’s back.</p><p>Rafael intends to tell Nick this, but when he does arrive, bright and early and perfectly on time for visitation, Rafael has to remind himself to shut his mouth.</p><p>Nick looks <em>good</em>. He’s wearing slacks, white shirt neatly tucked in and emphasising his trim waist. He’s shaved, too, jaw clear and free of tension and Rafael is relieved to see it, hoping Nick’s had some downtime. Rafael wonders if he always dresses up to visit hospitals on the weekend. Nick’s wearing cologne, for God’s sake.</p><p>He’s also wearing a nervous expression, and it looks wrong on him: Rafael likes him confident, and hates to think that Nick is afraid he’ll throw him out, reject him, refuse to listen to what he has to say. Because he does <em>have</em> something to say — his uncertainty speaks of something buried, something he’s been mulling over. Nick looks like he’s picking up his date for prom while the girl’s father breathes down his neck, gaze carefully trained on Rafael’s face.</p><p>“I’m sorry, detective,” Rafael says loftily. “My doctor advised me against accepting visitors unless they came bearing gifts.”</p><p>Nick relaxes. “I’m not a grand gestures kind of guy,” he admits, cracking a smile. “Liv take your statement yesterday?”</p><p>“Yes,” Rafael answers. In the end, he’d been glad it was just her: recounting every painful, humiliating detail had been more difficult than he’d anticipated. It was one thing going over it in his head, but saying it aloud had been a struggle.</p><p>After a moment’s hesitation, Nick takes the seat beside his bed. Rafael pretends to examine his nails, all too aware of the spectre of Nick’s temper hanging over them.</p><p>“I owe you an apology,” Nick says haltingly. “I crossed a line, the other day. Shouldn’t have been there at all, really, but I…” He trails off, looking down and away. “I had to see you.”</p><p>Rafael understands. Even after thinking it through logically, determining that he’d been the only target, it took seeing Nick with his own eyes to drive home that he was safe.</p><p>“It was the last thing you needed,” Nick continues, pinning Rafael with his gaze. Rafael can see how tight a hold Nick is keeping on himself, fingers curled punishingly tight on the arms of the chair as he says his piece. “And I’m sorry.”</p><p>The apology doesn’t struggle out of Nick’s mouth, but Rafael gets the sense that Nick doesn’t apologise in depth very often. He looks worried, anxiously searching Rafael’s face for a reaction, and it feels significant that Nick doesn’t want to sweep this under the rug, wants things to be right between them.</p><p>Rafael holds out a hand, palm up, and Nick looks at it and him before taking it, fingers folding over Rafael’s with a gentleness he didn’t expect. “Thank you,” Rafael says quietly.</p><p>“I never meant to make the worst day of your life even worse,” Nick says, voice just light enough to pass it off as a joke.</p><p>“I’ve had worse days,” Rafael says, and then, to Nick’s raised eyebrows, adds, “I lost four cases in one day, once.” He chuckles. “Thought I’d lose my job.”</p><p>Nick doesn’t laugh. “He held you at gunpoint,” he exclaims, and then makes a visible effort to reign in his temper. His fingers flex against Rafael’s, but he doesn’t let go.</p><p>“You do realise — I can’t not joke about this,” Rafael says, flatly enough that Nick winces and nods.</p><p>“Liv recommended a therapist, right?”</p><p>“Yes,” Rafael says, attempting to soften his tone. “That’s a new one, for me.”</p><p>Nick scrapes the chair closer, and Burlington’s basement flashes across Rafael’s mind for a second before it’s gone. “It’s better than you’d think,” Nick says, somewhat uncomfortably, and then moves on. “So, when are you getting out?”</p><p>“You make it sound like Rikers,” Rafael says, but he understands: he’s already sick of enforced meals, no phone and no case files. He’s <em>bored</em>. “Day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, if I’m lucky.”</p><p>“Are you going to be okay on your own?” Nick asks immediately. “I can pick you up.”</p><p>Rafael squeezes Nick’s hand before letting go to reach for his water, embarrassed by the plastic cup and focusing on the faint sounds of conversation next door to avoid eye contact. Caught between vulnerability and independence, he clears his throat twice before speaking, and accepts Nick’s — <em>perfectly friendly</em>, Rafael reminds himself, <em>anyone would do the same</em> — kind offer.</p><p>Nick’s smile makes everything worth it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Nick brings him his phone, released from evidence the next day, Rafael feels less like a military wife waiting for news and more like his normal, perpetually plugged-in self. It also has the benefit of allowing him to text Nick, who never uses punctuation but stoops to the occasional emoji, and the world grows a little bigger than his hospital room.</p><p>Upon learning from Frieda that Rafael should be resting, not working, Nick refuses to bring him any case files, and Rafael learns to survive on discussing cases over text. Despite his protests, he’s been committed to a nebulous ‘couple weeks’ off work, and misses his bookshelf even more when Nick messages him about what he’s reading.</p><p>On Sunday evening, he sends a photo.</p><p>His thumb is delving into the book’s centre, spreading the pages and it’s a little obscene, a little suggestive for a man who hasn’t gotten laid in fucking forever and usually has a nurse waiting for him outside the bathroom door. Nick’s little finger rests along the bottom, delicate and steadying. Rafael imagines those fingers on his skin and shivers.</p><p>He can hardly focus on the words, hopelessly distracted by Nick’s broad hands and probing fingers, but Nick’s reading <em>Pride and Prejudice</em>, his copy turned to page 52.</p><p><em>“My temper I dare not vouch for,”</em> Mr Darcy is saying. <em>“It is I believe too little yielding — certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful.”</em></p><p>Rafael smirks, darkly amused. He’s charmed by the knowledge that this is a reread for Nick, that given the time and opportunity, Nick curls up with a good book and doesn’t care who knows it. It makes him all the more eager to get home, to crack open something that isn’t an impenetrable tome of case law, to be able to level with Nick on the things he’s passionate about.</p><p>He’s set to leave on Monday. With Nick en route, Rafael puts up with the usual tests, poked and prodded by nurses and receiving only a lukewarm coffee as compensation, and swings his legs out of bed the second he’s left alone.</p><p>Or so he thinks, because Frieda appears to have a nose for escaping patients and is back in the room like a shot.</p><p>“Mr Barba,” she says, hurrying over and putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “I cannot release you until there’s someone here to release you to. You’re not cleared to leave on your own.”</p><p>“Am I too late?” It’s the second time in a week that Rafael has never been so glad to hear Nick’s voice. Nick turns an easy grin on the nurse, whose expression mellows somewhat.</p><p>“I’ll need your details,” she says, tone still sharp. “Come to reception and I’ll get the paperwork. You’ll need approval from his doctor, however.”</p><p>Rafael stands up when they leave, stretching his arms in front of him and praying Nick brought him some clothes that aren’t pyjamas or a hospital gown. The suit he had been wearing when abducted was in poor shape, and though it’s been returned to him, he doesn’t intend to keep it. His bank account mourns.</p><p>Frieda returns minutes later, alone and holding a duffel bag. “I need to ask,” she says. “Do you feel safe going home with him?”</p><p>Rafael frowns. “What?”</p><p>“Hospital policy.” She hesitates. “And he gave the staff a little trouble when he couldn’t see you on Friday.”</p><p>It takes everything Rafael has not to laugh. He clears his throat. “I see,” he says. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>only a lil chapter this week but forecasts show fluffy times ahead :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>posting a lil early in the evening because ya gal is tired. this is (almost) nothing but fluff and i hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hospital releases him with extreme reluctance, mandating that Rafael be under supervision for 24 hours, but once they enter his flat, Rafael wants to be alone.</p><p>It hasn’t been turned upside down, and the crime scene tape had presumably already been removed, but the knowledge that things were just <em>slightly</em> out of place makes Rafael squirm. He pushes the key bowl back to its original position and closes his eyes briefly as Nick comes in behind him.</p><p>He doesn’t say anything when he turns, but Nick reads bad news in his face.</p><p>“What is it?” he asks, resigned.</p><p>“I need to be alone,” Rafael says, nudging his abandoned briefcase out of the way with his shoe, “for now.” He hesitates but looks Nick in the face, because Rafael Barba has never run from a challenge and he doesn’t intend to start with a relationship hurdle. On a whim, he adds, “Please,” and Nick’s expression softens, though he steels his jaw.</p><p>“Rafael,” he starts. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”</p><p>“I think I just need some quiet,” Rafael says, feeling very small as he says it. “I have to take stock, put it back to rights.”</p><p>“He was in here,” Nick says, somewhat mulishly.</p><p>“That’s why I have to do this alone,” Rafael says. His logic wouldn’t stand up in court, but he needs to do this without an audience, see which of his belongings have been picked up and turned over and put down. To understand what the faceless techs thought they could learn about his life.</p><p>Nick bites his lip, scanning Rafael’s face, and Rafael loves him for his concern, his reluctance to leave Rafael alone with his thoughts. “I’m a call away,” he says eventually.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I mean it,” Nick says. He closes the distance between them, full of intent, but merely puts a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “I’ll be here.”</p><p>Rafael swallows, inadvertently drawing Nick’s attention to the movement of his throat, and then Nick’s gaze tracks up to his lips, and finally to his eyes. The air feels charged, electric, but neither of them move. Nick drops his hand and nods.</p><p>“I’ll see you soon,” Rafael promises, moving past Nick to open the door, and thinks he hears Nick sigh.</p><p>Rafael lasts about an hour. He gets in the bath first, face stinging as he wets it and various bruises making themselves known with a bone-deep ache that makes him feel heavy, sunk like a stone to the bottom of the ocean. He cleans himself roughly, feeling dirty everywhere Burlington touched him, hearing Burlington’s gloating voice in his ear and drying his hair vigorously with a towel to drown it out.</p><p>When he emerges, skin red and raw but untainted at last, he dresses in pyjamas — before 5pm, for the first time since college, probably — and intends to collapse onto the sofa and rot his brain with mindless TV.</p><p>It doesn’t work. Rafael channel-surfs, the mechanical clicking of the remote too irritating to stand after a while, before wandering the apartment to set things to rights. He straightens his duvet, slams the drawer in the kitchen that always gets stuck just slightly ajar, and nudges the various paperweights and ornaments back into their proper places on the bookshelf. Menial tasks done, his gaze strays to the front door.</p><p>Idle hands mean his mind is free to wander, too, and nothing stops him from checking obsessively that the bolt is drawn, the chain across. He’s never been a worrier and the onset of paranoia frightens him, but understanding this doesn’t stop him inventing excuses to pass the door. The third time he checks, under the pretence of straightening the key bowl again, he shakes himself out of it and calls Nick.</p><p>“I haven’t got any food in,” he lies over the phone. “Would you mind picking something up for us?”</p><p>“Sure,” Nick says. Rafael thinks his charade has been successful until Nick adds, quieter, “Should I bring my bag, too?”</p><p>He’d taken the duffel bag with him when he left, having brought Rafael jeans and a t-shirt and presumably being prepared to stay the night to honour the hospital’s request for supervision. Rafael knows what Nick is asking, and it feels so much better not being the one to ask.</p><p>“If you think it’s best,” Rafael says obstinately, ashamed to admit he wants the security of another person in the apartment, ashamed to need Nick’s help, to want him close.</p><p>Nick’s there in fifteen minutes. Rafael eyes him through the peephole, duffel bag over his shoulder and a thermos in his hands, and opens the door with a neutral expression.</p><p>“Hey,” Nick says, strolling in with outstanding confidence that puzzles Rafael until he realises Nick has already been in his apartment: to investigate the crime scene. Nick’s looking around with interest though, presumably taking in things he didn’t notice in a haze of panic, or in the scant moments before Rafael kicked him out earlier. As Rafael glances around himself, he goes hot with the shame of not having any photos displayed, no friends or family and he's embarrassed, particularly because he knows Nick’s home will be full of photos. Because Nick pulled his head out of a book long enough to start a family, whereas Rafael…</p><p>The job is a marriage, everyone knows that, but he feels small and insignificant next to someone who’s actually had a <em>life</em>, no matter his own career success.</p><p>“What’s that?” Rafael asks, putting the thoughts out of his head and indicating the thermos.</p><p>“Oh,” Nick says, flustered as if he hadn’t thought Rafael would ask. “I, uh — I made you soup.”</p><p>“Thought you weren’t one for grand gestures,” is out of Rafael’s mouth before he can stop himself. He doesn’t know how to react to this, what it means, what Nick’s intentions are.</p><p>Nick grins sheepishly at him, then seems to take him in for the first time. Rafael feels his cheeks warm as Nick’s eyes sweep over him, from his damp hair to his pyjamas to his bare feet.</p><p>“You could wear those pyjamas to court,” Nick says, and continues to stare. “I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit.”</p><p>“Like seeing your teachers outside of school?”</p><p>“Like seeing a new side of you,” Nick says, stepping closer. Rafael avoids eye contact, gaze dropping down and away. “Hey,” Nick says, quieter. “You okay? Come here.”</p><p>Rafael doesn’t fight it, lets himself be pulled into Nick’s orbit and his arms, and Nick holds him tight, dropping his face to Rafael’s shoulder.</p><p>“You still don’t feel real,” he says, muffled.</p><p>Rafael wants to say something like ‘You saved me’, or ‘I’m safe now’, something movie-esque and sentimental, but he just stays silent, hands splaying over Nick’s shoulder blades, breathing in the warm scent of him. When he begins to pull back, Nick’s grip tightens momentarily before letting go.</p><p>“Sorry,” Nick says genuinely, pulling back. Rafael's hands slip to his shoulders, and after a moment he decides to leave them there.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Rafael says, looking up into his face. He exhales, letting his hands fall, and notices the strap of the duffel bag still on Nick’s shoulder. He clears his throat. “Here, let me take—“</p><p>“No, no,” Nick says, deliberately dropping the bag to his hand and placing it next to the sofa. Unable to remember the last time he shared a bed, Rafael appreciates the lack of assumption. “Here, I’ll heat this up for you, huh? You must be starving.”</p><p>“I hate hospital food,” Rafael says by way of reply, following Nick to the kitchen and crouching to retrieve a saucepan from the cupboard. The click of the igniter disguises the clicking of his knees as he straightens up, and their fingers brush as Nick takes the pan from him.</p><p>“I’m not sick, you know,” Rafael says, watching Nick approximate two portions and pour them in.</p><p>“Don’t have to be,” Nick says. “S’good for the soul.” He glances sideways at the open windows. “You warm or something? New York in March isn’t what I’d call temperate.”</p><p>“Cleansing the apartment,” Rafael says breezily, leaning back against the island. “Foreign bodies, et cetera.” Despite his tone of projected calm, he doesn’t have time to school his expression when Nick looks over. For a moment, there’s pure fury in Nick’s gaze, and Rafael thinks of the hours Nick spent searching, frightened and angry for him. But only for a moment, and Nick approaches slowly.</p><p>“If he’d taken me from anywhere else,” Rafael says hesitantly, “I could brush it off. But here…”</p><p>“Home’s somewhere that’s meant to be safe,” Nick says, a platitude that Rafael absorbs with a hint of amusement, thinking about their fathers. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Rafael nods, chest feeling tight. “Stir your soup,” he quips. Nick kisses him on the cheek so swiftly Rafael doesn’t register it until Nick’s back is turned, and is grateful Nick doesn’t see him blush. He crosses the kitchen to fetch bowls, dislodging two from the towering, largely unused stack of them.</p><p>When he turns, his breath catches in his throat, the image of Nick standing at his stove too much to bear. It makes him <em>ache</em>, watching him cook like he belongs there, as if they’ve fallen into some easy domesticity. Rafael bites his lip and wishes Nick had used the microwave.</p><p>Nick catches him watching and smiles, slow and easy, and the tightness in Rafael’s chest unfolds into something calmer. He puts the bowls down and leans back against the counter, content to watch Nick work. Nick’s sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, muscles shifting as he stirs, and Rafael is glad of the opportunity to observe him. Nick’s different when he’s not working, when he’s alone — quicker to smile, his movements looser.</p><p>They eat in front of the TV, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa. Nick somehow finds Breaking Bad among the mountain of crap television, astonished and even indignant that Rafael’s never seen it, and tucks his legs under him as he eats, making his six-foot frame childish and endearing.</p><p>“You done?” Rafael asks, watching Nick twirl the spoon between his fingers. He puts their bowls in the dishwasher, and hesitates when he comes back, hovering by the arm of the sofa.</p><p>“Hey,” Nick says, catching his eye. “Come here, huh?”</p><p>“Thought you’d never ask,” Rafael says, and Nick laughs as Rafael sits beside him, putting an arm around him and tucking Rafael closer to his side. Nick has an easy way about him Rafael appreciates, one that makes it easier to let his guard down.</p><p>Nick’s engrossed in the episode, but Rafael quickly grows bored of watching Walter White stalk a fly around a meth lab. He can’t help focusing on Nick instead, on the warmth of his chest, on the way his fingers flex unconsciously on Rafael’s hip, on the sharp scent of his cologne. He can’t help the way he <em>wants</em>, desire clouding his head thick and heavy and he pushes closer, demands Nick’s attention, and when Nick looks down, half a smile already on his lips, Rafael kisses him.</p><p>Despite his desire, despite the creeping desperation that insists on having Nick <em>now now now</em>, they go slow, slower than they did on Rafael’s doorstep, more conscious now that they have time, that this isn’t a few stolen hours when they’re both mercifully free from work. Rafael knows Nick’s got a few days off, too, and the prospect of having Nick all to himself is one to be savoured. His shoulder aches, as do his wrists; he’s in no shape for extracurricular activities.</p><p>So it’s nice like this, for now: their lips moving together slow and sweet, Nick’s hand drifting up to cup Rafael’s jaw, thumb rubbing over his cheek—</p><p>“Ow,” Rafael blurts out, quite by accident, and Nick pulls back immediately. He opens his eyes after Rafael does, so Rafael notices when Nick zeroes in on the welt on his cheek, much subdued from the swollen wreck it had been originally, but still bearing a scratch from Burlington’s ring splitting his skin.</p><p>Nick reaches for him again and, perceiving no resistance, thumbs over Rafael’s cheek again with almost unbearable tenderness. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.</p><p>“Aren’t you sick of saying that?” Rafael asks, holding eye contact. It’s Nick who looks away. “I don’t hold it against you,” Rafael continues, finding it difficult to sound authoritative while sitting half in Nick’s lap, but managing. “And I’ll be okay.”</p><p>Therapy has always been something for other people, not for him. It’s prescribed in court, or recommended to survivors by SVU — never a concept that truly hits home, or one that ever made him curious. He knows Nick has seen a therapist, whether it was mandated by IAB or by his ex-wife, Rafael doesn’t know, but Nick was somewhat cagey about it in the hospital, and God knows enough boundaries have been pushed between the two of them in the last few days.</p><p>“Okay,” Nick says, chuckling. When Rafael raises an eyebrow, he explains, “I don’t know how anyone stands up to you in the courtroom, with that voice.”</p><p>“If only everyone on the stand crumbled as easily as you,” Rafael says ironically, but smiles to himself, shifting until he’s more comfortable on the sofa and nestling back into Nick’s side. Nick picks up the remote and returns to flicking through channels.</p><p>“I noticed you weren’t a fan of ‘Fly’,” he observes dryly.</p><p>“You should be a detective.”</p><p>“Funny,” Nick says, squeezing Rafael’s hip. “How about a movie instead?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rafael contemplates getting out of bed for the second time. The blinds are only an inch short for the window, but even that small amount spills light into the room. In an attempt not to think about Burlington, or the front door of the apartment, his mind fixates on the little things. An inch of light, a dog barking several buildings over, the buzz of cars going past — Rafael finds each a punishable offence.</p><p>Nick’s standing guard, sleeping on the sofa he’s too tall for but accepted with grace, curled up beneath blankets Rafael hasn’t needed in months, having purchased a winter duvet and never looked back. Rafael thinks of Nick, between him and the front door, and the thought crosses his mind that he’d feel safer if Nick was <em>here</em>.</p><p>Once he’s had the thought, he can’t get it out of his head. He makes it to the mouth of the living room before he hesitates, unable to talk himself into taking those last few steps. Rafael can think of a multitude of reasons Nick could say no — what if he, perfectly reasonably, doesn’t want to share a bed with him? Disturbing Nick for purely selfish reasons, opening himself up like that — he can’t.</p><p>When he takes another step forward, the light reveals Nick is asleep, and Rafael curses silently, his sudden surge of confidence shot. Nick’s face is serene in sleep, young and relaxed, the ever-present furrow between his eyebrows gone. He fell asleep fast, Rafael thinks, smiling to see Nick peaceful: fast enough to avoid Rafael’s emotional revelation. Lucky for them both.</p><p>As he turns to go, Nick stirs.</p><p>Rafael bites his lip, cursing himself now; Nick has children, of course he’s a light sleeper. The sofa creaks as Nick shifts, and Rafael turns his gaze skyward. Someone up there has it out for him. When he turns, Nick’s eyes are open.</p><p>“Rafi?” he mumbles sleepily, turning to Rafael like a flower to the sun.</p><p>Rafael can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the nickname, but tries to hide his small, pleased smile as he goes to him, kneeling beside the sofa. Nick blinks at him and starts to stretch before divining something from Rafael’s expression.</p><p>“What is it, you okay?” The concern in his voice is touching, and Rafael feels stupid for waking him over something so simple, beginning to draw away. Nick catches his arm. “Hey, come on,” he says gently. “What is it?”</p><p>“I can’t sleep,” Rafael says, humiliated, and then manages, “Alone.”</p><p>Nick’s face softens, hand moving from Rafael’s shoulder to his cheek. “Of course,” he says.</p><p>Rafael doesn’t consider himself a spontaneous person, but there’s no other explanation for leaning in and kissing Nick like his life depends on it. Nick’s surprised noise is lost between them and his fingers slide to the nape of Rafael’s neck, pressing him close even as he slows the pace, kissing Rafael in soft, leisurely presses that make Rafael feel warm inside. But Nick opens his mouth for Rafael, lets Rafael lick into him, tasting toothpaste and steadying himself with a hand on Nick’s arm. Nick doesn’t fight for control, but the insistence with which he kisses Rafael back has him biting back a moan, overwhelmed by the force of Nick’s desire.</p><p>“Mmm,” Nick says when they break apart. “What was that for?”</p><p>Words hover on Rafael’s lips, but he forgets everything when Nick finds his hand in the dark, reduced to nothing by the simplest touch. Nick kicks away the blankets and sits up, the crack of his spine making them both laugh. Rafael’s heart is pounding and he worries Nick can feel it through their joined hands, but by the time Nick’s standing, he isn’t worried anymore.</p><p>Nick pulls him in for a hug, the abruptness making Rafael tense up, but he relaxes against Nick’s skin, mind going blissfully blank. Nick is sleep-warm and soothing, hard angles softened by moonlight, and he kisses Rafael’s temple as he pulls away.</p><p>“You’re safe now,” he tells him, and Rafael makes no reply, half-amused by the movie line but struck by the meaning behind it, grip tightening on Nick’s hand.</p><p>In another context it would be an invitation, but leading Nick by the hand to his bed is born of a deeper trust, that human need for companionship. Nick chooses the side closest to the door, as Rafael knew he would, and it’s easy to slip in beside him, ever-conscious of Nick’s body just inches away. The sliver of street light creeping from under the blinds paints the room in dim shades of orange, illuminating little but the vague shapes of their bodies and reflecting the light in Nick’s eyes.</p><p>They lie in silence. Rafael forces his eyes closed, not wanting to know if Nick’s looking at him, and with what in his eyes — pity, concern, embarrassment? Then Nick begins to shift and Rafael’s eyes snap open, fearing he’s changed his mind.</p><p>Nick sits up, cast in shadow. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?” he says, hushed. “It’s hotter in here.”</p><p>Rafael’s glad it’s too dark for Nick to see how his cheeks have flushed, Nick’s words bringing to mind a poor pick-up line. “Sure,” he tries to say, mangling the word as it struggles out of his suddenly dry mouth, and clears his throat. “Sure.”</p><p>Rafael watches him, a dark silhouette pulling his shirt quickly over his head and lying back down beside him. They’re still facing each other. Rafael imagines he can feel the heat of him, the fire dancing off Nick’s naked skin, tantalisingly close.</p><p>Then he has to stop imagining, before he embarrasses both of them, and digs his fingernails into his palm to distract himself.</p><p>“Rafi?” Nick whispers in the darkness, and Rafael must be imagining that his fingers have crept closer. He holds his breath, waiting for Nick to ask.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Nick hesitates, seemingly on the verge of some great revelation. “Goodnight.”</p><p>Rafael could choke on his disappointment. It wouldn’t be ethical, he chastises himself furiously, so soon after Burlington. Nick would think he was the subject of a reaction, of acting out. He deserves better than that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nick frowns at the ceiling, disoriented until Rafael makes a soft noise in his sleep and he remembers where he is. Turning his head, he can’t help but smile: Rafael looks peaceful, and Nick hadn’t heard him get up in the night. Rafael hadn’t slept well in the hospital, he’d said; Nick hopes maybe his presence helped enough for Rafael to get some sleep.</p><p>He doesn’t want to leave Rafael alone the first morning they wake up together, so fights the urge to get up and lies still, crossing his arms behind his head. His phone’s in the other room, but the clock beside Rafael reads 8am. It’s late for him, for Rafael, and he’s privately astonished that they both slept so well.</p><p>The sunlight doesn’t have much chance to shift before Rafael is stirring, propping himself up on his elbows. Nick smiles to himself at those ridiculous, adorable pyjamas he could’ve predicted Rafael would own.</p><p>“Mornin’,” Nick says, voice rusty with sleep. He clears his throat, and has to clear it again when Rafael smiles, loose and relaxed, his guard not up yet.</p><p>“Good morning,” Rafael says, the formality making Nick laugh.</p><p>“Court is in session?” he teases. He sits up, duvet falling to his hips and he stretches, still too warm and looking forward to a shower. When he glances over, Rafael isn’t looking at his face, gaze wandering Nick’s torso, arms, abs. Nick smirks and continues stretching, watching Rafael until the other man sheepishly meets his eyes. “See something you like?” he can’t help but ask, amused and flattered.</p><p>“Maybe,” Rafael says, raising an eyebrow, not giving up any ground. Nick kisses him quick on the mouth and leans back to gauge his reaction. “That doesn’t mean you won,” Rafael mutters, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching his arms in front of him. Nick mourns that he can’t observe Rafael in the same way Rafael admired him, but there’s time for that. He hopes so, anyway.</p><p>“Sure,” he says. “So, what’s the plan for today?”</p><p>“Have you got somewhere to be?” Rafael asks, straightening his side of the bed and eyeing Nick until, motivated by guilt, Nick makes his side up too.</p><p>“Not at all,” Nick replies, casual enough to put Rafael’s worries at ease. Rafael has a fear of overstepping, he thinks — as if Nick hasn’t overstepped enough for a lifetime. “Though from the sorry state of your fridge, I think you owe it a trip to the supermarket.”</p><p>Rafael laughs, opening the blinds. “Fair enough,” he concedes.</p><p>“Mind if I use your shower?”</p><p>“Towels are in the linen closet,” Rafael says, “help yourself. I won’t be long.”</p><p>Nick showers after they’ve both brushed their teeth, making it quick and relieved to smell coffee when he hops out. Rafael’s towels are Egyptian cotton — <em>of course</em>, Nick thinks wryly — and as soon as he wraps one around his hips, he remembers his clothes are still in the duffel bag.</p><p>At this rate, Rafael’s gonna think he’s inventing excuses to parade around shirtless. Hair dried as best he can, Nick hovers barefoot in the hallway for a moment before padding over to the sofa, his bag where he dropped it yesterday. He grabs jeans and a t-shirt before looking at Rafael, who’s tending to his fancy coffee machine.</p><p>“Are you ever fully clothed?” Rafael asks dryly, pouring two cups of coffee. His wit doesn’t stop him from looking Nick up and down, tantalisingly slowly, eyes lingering on Nick’s cautious grip on the towel.</p><p>“Sometimes,” Nick says, grinning.</p><p>“You’re dripping all over the floor,” Rafael reprimands him, but Nick can hear the smile in his voice as he turns away.</p><p>“My apologies, Counsellor.”</p><p>He dresses quickly, running his hands through his hair and combing it until it sits how he wants it, and emerges eager for caffeine, which he’s disappointed to note tastes the same as instant despite being God knows how much more expensive. Rafael turns up his nose when Nick informs him.</p><p>“I’ve seen you with your energy drinks,” he says dismissively. “You’re not experienced enough.”</p><p>Nick spins to face him at the breakfast bar. Rafael pretends to continue facing forward, but Nick sees Rafael’s gaze dip to his spread legs. “I think you’ll find,” he says, quiet, so Rafael has to lean in to hear him, “that I have plenty of experience.”</p><p>He hears Rafael’s quick intake of breath, notes the flush to his cheeks and smirks, smug in his ability to provoke a rise out of him. Despite his triumph in obtaining the upper hand, he’s desperate for Rafael to respond, but the charged silence is broken by the shrill ring of Rafael’s phone. Rafael clears his throat and grabs it, bringing it to his ear without looking at Nick. “Barba.”</p><p>Nick returns to his coffee, turning to face the counter again and toying with the damp hair at the nape of his neck. His phone is still on the coffee table; confident of having Rafael’s undivided attention, he hadn’t bothered bringing it over. It’s Liv on the phone, no doubt enquiring after Rafael because really, he wasn’t <em>supposed</em> to check out yesterday. But he’d been so morose over texts, over the phone — Nick couldn’t leave him there, not if it was in his power to get him out and keep him company. Rafael would do the same for him.</p><p>“Olivia asked after you,” Rafael says when he hangs up, finally turning to face him.</p><p>“She know I’m here?”</p><p>“She knew someone got me out,” Rafael says, chuckling. “Doesn’t take a detective to figure out who.”</p><p>Nick concedes the point with a smile, nudging Rafael’s socked foot with his own. “What next?”</p><p>“I suppose I’d better get some food in,” Rafael says. “Return the favour.”</p><p>It takes Nick a second. “You don’t have to cook for me,” he says, colour rising to his cheeks. “That was — I don’t expect anything.”</p><p>“I want to,” Rafael says, catching his eye and favouring him with a real smile.</p><p>The grocery store is near-empty, and it’s nice not to have to battle through the Saturday crowds of stationary idiots and mums with pushchairs. Nick insists on carrying the basket and Rafael eventually acquiesces, stage-whispering about outdated chivalry.</p><p>He has to talk Rafael into many of his purchases, because Rafael is insistent he can survive on takeout and Nick privately hopes Rafael will let him cook for him, for both of them, and not just while Rafael’s recovering. Nick keeps an eye on him, lets Rafael walk ahead so he stops looking over his shoulder, holds his hand if the opportunity presents itself.</p><p>It’s funny, the things you miss — Nick feels unreasonably pleased to be grocery shopping with Rafael, to exchange glances over unruly customers, to bicker about what ingredients to buy. Food shopping became a chore when Maria left.</p><p>“I’ll have you know,” Rafael says as they’re queueing, “that this is more groceries than I’ve bought in years.”</p><p>“Glad I could change that,” Nick says, grinning at him. Rafael’s in jeans today, black, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from his beloved slacks for more than four days, and Nick’s been resisting engaging in egregious PDA this whole trip.</p><p>Rafael precedes Nick into his apartment but waits for Nick to move so he can slide the bolt across, and Nick steels his jaw and wonders how long fear will be a habit for Rafael. He sets the groceries he’s holding down on the kitchen island and starts unpacking, prepared for Rafael to wave him off, but of course Rafael never has enough in his cupboards to have an organised system.</p><p>Nick doesn’t hide his dismay, and Rafael laughs good-naturedly, asking, “Am I going to wake up to you reorganising my kitchen?”</p><p>“You might,” Nick says. He’s facing away, stacking cans, but manages not to jump when Rafael passes and kisses him on the cheek. Warmth spreads through him, makes him feel grateful all over again he got to do this with Rafael. He doesn’t vocalise it, conscious of how things might shift between them if he mentions Maria, but it feels… nice. He tries to focus on that warmth, pushes away thoughts of making the same mistakes, of scaring Rafael away like he pushed Maria, even Zara, away. Nick wonders if it will always be like this, if feelings of affection will always be mixed with regret, with fear.</p><p>“Don’t kill me,” Rafael says when they’re done, flopping onto the sofa with a sigh, “but I can’t be bothered to cook. Thai?”</p><p>Nick laughs, collapsing beside him. “Alright,” he concedes. “But I, uh — I was gonna go in for a few hours tomorrow. Much as I wish we could do this forever,” he hastens to add, “I don’t have as much time off, and I try to save my vacation days. For Zara. Sarge said I could do half-days this week, so…”</p><p>Rafael’s nodding before he even finishes speaking. “I’d prefer if you didn’t backseat-cook, anyway,” he says, smirking. “You seem the type.”</p><p>“You’re not far off.”</p><p>When their food arrives, Nick offers to get it, picking up on Rafael’s anxiety as the delivery driver texts him, and surmises that despite his bravado earlier, Rafael will likely order less takeout now to avoid unnecessary trips out. But Nick finds himself memorising the driver’s face, the scar bisecting his top lip, and has to shake himself out of it. He’s never been good at the work-home separation schtick, and bites the inside of his cheek at the thought that guilt will force him to analyse everyone he and Rafael interact with.</p><p>Returning to the apartment, Nick hears the snap of the bolt, and it hurts to realise that Rafael locked the door for the two minutes that Nick was gone. It makes him want to do something stupid, like visit Rikers and barter for a few minutes alone with Burlington.</p><p>He tries to hide the sudden fury of his expression, conscious of the peephole and Rafael opening the door too quickly to disguise his anger, but Rafael doesn’t seem to suspect anything. Nick suspects Rafael is too busy trying to hide his dread of the front door.</p><p>He raises an eyebrow at the Scotch on the coffee table. “Scotch and Thai?”</p><p>“Why not,” Rafael says, and they pass the evening like that, eating and drinking and laughing and <em>talking</em>, and Nick hasn’t felt like this in a long time, heart seizing with fondness every time Rafael drinks with his pinky up, every time he so much as <em>smiles</em>. Things feel comfortable between them, and they’ve slipped into domesticity with such ease Nick can’t help but feel it was fated, much as he despises the forces that brought them to this moment. He probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Burlington, and he’d do anything to spare Rafael that pain.</p><p>They go to bed slightly earlier, in deference to Nick working the next day, and Nick hesitates in the hallway before Rafael leans around the door to say, “Aren’t you coming?” and he’s able to nod, smile. He brushes his teeth first, trying to quell his fluttering heart before he shares Rafael’s bed and too much of his soul.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nick smiles at him when he comes in, eyes lingering on Rafael’s body, wearing just a t-shirt and loose boxers, and then he says, “I liked your other pyjamas.”</p><p>“Bed’s too warm with you in it,” Rafael says, too quickly; he blushes and looks away, cursing the Scotch. “You’re like a furnace.”</p><p>“You’ll appreciate it come November,” Nick says, slipping his watch off and putting it on the nightstand. The nonchalant mention of their relationship lasting that long has Rafael’s heart skipping a beat.</p><p>“I’m sure,” he manages, rubbing his own wrist and realising he’d forgotten to get another watch out, that he hasn’t worn one for a few days now. It feels strange, makes him feel like he’s become someone else.</p><p>The thought makes him ill, makes him go to his closet and open drawers until he finds the watch someone in the department had given him a couple years ago, not as expensive as one he’d buy for himself, but nice enough to be seen in.</p><p>Nick watches him as he puts it on the nightstand, consciously mirroring Nick in an attempt to feel normal. Nick reaches out for him, briefly clasping his hand. Rafael neutralises his expression. “You okay?” Nick asks.</p><p>Rafael makes a noise of assent, not trusting his voice until he’s safe under the covers and the lamp is off and Nick’s concern is masked in shadow. “I’m fine,” he says, taking a few deep breaths before he means it. He can wake up tomorrow and put his watch on like every other man on the goddamn planet, and things will be okay.</p><p>He isn’t sure how long they lie there, but it’s long enough for him to calm down. Rafael turns onto his back, not tired in the slightest but conscious of sharing his apartment, now; he can’t just get up and make coffee and read case files until his eyes bleed. Nick’s here, and he wants to sleep, like a normal person with a normal sleep cycle. It makes Rafael hopeful about their long-term prospects: he doesn’t assume Nick meant anything by his comment, but it’s reassuring to think that he could grow out of awful habits like eating nothing but takeout, sleeping just a couple hours a night, replacing water with coffee and Scotch. He doesn’t care enough to change his habits alone, but he’d make an effort for Nick. Especially now Rafael’s seen how it worries him.</p><p>“Rafael,” comes Nick’s voice in the darkness.</p><p><em>Here we go again</em>, Rafael thinks, pulse jumping despite knowing this will trail into nothing, that Nick’s just saying goodnight. Again. But this time he isn’t imagining Nick’s hand creeping closer; Nick’s fingers tangle briefly with his, and he holds his breath. “Yes?”</p><p>“I want to kiss you,” Nick says, firm.</p><p>It takes a second to register. “Oh,” Rafael says lamely, and then, “Okay.”</p><p>Neither of them move. Nick chuckles in the silence. “So do you mind if I—“</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Rafael says, having no idea what he’s talking about. That doesn’t last long: Nick shuffles closer to him, hand groping blindly for purchase and finding Rafael’s shoulder, and Rafael has to remind himself to breathe as Nick settles, a shadow leaning over him.</p><p>“Okay?” Nick asks and Rafael can feel it against his lips, whole body tingling in anticipation. He’s kissed Nick before, made out with him before, but doing it in the bed they’re sharing makes it different, somehow.</p><p>“Yes,” Rafael says, unable to laugh at the awkwardness of it all because Nick’s already kissing him, short and teasing at first but then holding for longer, taking Rafael’s bottom lip between his and taking long, slow pulls of him, wet sounds loud in the silence of the night.</p><p>Nick stops suddenly and readjusts, annoyed. Rafael can feel his arm shaking above him and abruptly says, “Come here.”</p><p>“I am here,” Nick says, amused, and kisses him again to prove it.</p><p>“I mean properly,” Rafael says, relieved that Nick can’t see the fiery blush colouring his cheeks as he says, “On top.”</p><p>“You sure?” Nick asks but he moves, slotting one leg between Rafael’s, better able to support himself with his knee on the mattress. Rafael brings his hands to Nick’s shoulders, overwhelmed to feel the width of them above him, pressing him down.</p><p>“Better?”</p><p>“Much,” Nick says and claims him again, and Rafael almost jumps to feel Nick’s tongue tracing the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open. When he yields, Nick hums, satisfied, and licks into him, bringing his hand to Rafael’s cheek and probing deeper, kissing him hard and deep and Rafael feels like he’s drowning and pulls back to breathe, gasping and gripping at Nick’s shoulder blades.</p><p>Nick doesn’t stop, lips moving over Rafael’s jaw and his neck, pressing small sucking kisses to the skin there until Rafael sighs and pulls him back to his mouth, drinking deep and pushing up hard, forcing Nick to submit and let himself be kissed, let Rafael take charge. They break apart again and Rafael realises he’s getting hard, that Nick is too, heart pounding and heat pooling in his belly.</p><p>He knew Nick was a good kisser, but it’s one thing to think about it, dream about it, and quite another to have Nick under his hands, feel the muscles in his back shifting as he dips to kiss down to Rafael’s collarbone, pushing aside his shirt, lingering there as if waiting for permission. Rafael can’t help himself, gasps, “Please,” and Nick stops teasing, sucks and laves at that spot until Rafael’s sure he’s left a mark, dick throbbing to think of Nick’s possessive streak.</p><p>“Fuck,” Nick says hoarsely, kissing him short and sweet while breathless, hand slipping to just between Rafael’s shoulder and throat and squeezing, just light enough to let Rafael know he wants more. “Can I,” Nick starts, and suddenly he’s shy, “can I take your shirt off?”</p><p>Rafael forces himself to relax, to breathe. It’s dark, he reminds himself, and Nick doesn’t need to see, only touch. He nods, voice rasping when he says, “Yeah, God, okay.”</p><p>Nick moves off him, lets Rafael pull his shirt over his head, politely doesn’t mention the way Rafael freezes up until it’s off and it’s not as bad as he thought. Nick lies down on his back, murmurs, “Now <em>you </em>come here,” and Rafael feels absurdly young when he straddles Nick’s hips, lets Nick help him lean down and find the angle and kiss him. He has the advantage now, pressing his lips to every inch of skin he can reach, claiming Nick’s mouth until he pulls back, panting against the pillow, and Rafael kisses his jaw, under his ear, a spot that makes Nick tense up and whine when Rafael sucks lightly there, careful not to leave a mark. He’s surprised by the roll of Nick’s hips, making them both moan and Rafael steadies himself on Nick’s shoulders, biting his lip at the thought of riding Nick like this, an image not helped by Nick’s hands stroking over his ribs and settling on his hips.</p><p>“Sorry,” Nick whispers, holding him still. Rafael can’t let go of him, awkwardly balanced as he is, and realises he can see Nick’s face, but Nick can’t see his. Nick’s expression is tightly controlled, gazing sightlessly up at him, unrestrained and cautious all at once. Rafael grinds down experimentally and watches Nick’s face go lax, eyes closing helplessly, and a wave of heat comes over him. “I want you so bad,” Nick says in a murmur, one hand on Rafael’s hip and the other on his shoulder, and he rolls them over in a practised move.</p><p>Rafael finds himself on his back with Nick between his legs and gasps, “<em>Yes</em>,” legs tightening involuntarily and pulling Nick closer to him. All too aware Nick can see <em>him</em> now, he closes his eyes briefly before looking up at him. He can feel Nick hard against him and grasps Nick’s arms, pulling him down so they’re lying together rather than Nick kneeling before him. It made him feel like something to be sacrificed.</p><p><em>Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad</em>, Rafael thinks, because Nick’s kissing him again, free hand wandering up Rafael’s waist and over his chest, feeling his heart beating and Rafael returns his hand to Nick’s back, nails digging in when Nick nips lightly at his bottom lip.</p><p>“How far do you want to go?” Nick asks against his lips, thrusting lightly against Rafael’s thigh, enough for Rafael to feel the length of him, enough to make Rafael’s dick twitch in his boxers.</p><p>“Just this,” Rafael says, pushing his hand up into Nick’s hair and pulling their lips together again, mouths moving together seamlessly, losing the frantic pace. He doesn’t want to go through the motions of clean up and awkward smiles in the bathroom: tomorrow is uncertain, with Nick away from him for a few hours and their relationship potentially shifting upon his evening return. Regret is a waste of time; Rafael wants to be sure about this, about Nick.</p><p>Rafael happens to catch a glimpse of the clock as it flicks to 02:00am and gasps, prompting Nick to stop kissing his throat. “You’re going to be so tired tomorrow,” Rafael teases him.</p><p>“Worth it,” Nick says, pressing one last kiss to his lips before flopping down beside him. “I’ll miss you, though.”</p><p>“I wish I could come with you,” Rafael says truthfully.</p><p>Nick makes a noise of disagreement. “Absolutely not.” He finds Rafael’s shirt, lost somewhere in the duvet, and hands it to him. Rafael accepts it gratefully, touched by the gesture. “Besides, you promised me dinner.”</p><p>“I don’t remember promising anything,” Rafael says loftily, putting his shirt back on and lying down, feeling confident enough in their relationship to face away from Nick without causing offence.</p><p>He’s still surprised when Nick cuddles up behind him, appropriating some of Rafael’s pillow and slipping a possessive arm around his waist.</p><p>“Knew you’d wanna be the little spoon,” Nick mumbles into his neck, sounding half-asleep already.</p><p>“You did not,” Rafael denies.</p><p>He wants to dissect everything that just happened, to consider his next moves, but within minutes of Nick’s breathing evening out, he finds himself drifting off too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>things are heating up :^) please leave a comment if you liked it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*eyes emoji*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nick wakes hard.</p><p>He’s not surprised, after the night they had. He feels like he can still taste Rafael on his lips, feel Rafael’s body under his. The flashes of memory make his dick twitch and he stifles a groan, sparing Rafael a glance to check he’s still asleep.</p><p>It’s 07:20am, and he is, albeit facing away. Good. Nick lets his hand wander beneath the covers, touching himself through his boxers and biting back a moan of relief. This isn’t going away.</p><p>Resigned, Nick walks stiffly to the bathroom, leaving the bedroom door ajar and firmly locking the bathroom door. He doesn’t want to jerk off in the toilet like some kind of animal, so starts the shower, stripping off quick and getting in just as the water’s heating up.</p><p>He’s conscious of using too much hot water but suspects he won’t be long anyway: getting a hand around his dick feels heaven-sent and he gives one long pull, letting himself moan under cover of the running water. Nick thinks of Rafael’s hands — wrapped around a coffee cup, twirling a pen — and closes his eyes, tightening his grip and imagining it’s Rafael’s hand on him, his movements unsure at first but growing in confidence as Nick moans, murmurs for him to go faster.</p><p>Nick imagines Rafael’s legs around his waist, like last night but tighter, more sure of himself, imagines fucking into that tight heat. Rafael clenches hard around his cock because it’s been <em>so long</em> and Nick gives him just what he wants, what they both need, fucking roughly into his hand and just <em>briefly</em> brushing his thumb over the vein and coming so hard he sees stars, flinging one hand against the shower wall for balance as he trembles through it, panting for breath and shaking water out of his eyes.</p><p>He swears liberally, grabbing for shampoo and conditioner with only half-focus and scrubbing himself thoroughly, skin tingling with aftershocks. Nick imagines he smells like guilt, smells like sex and he tiptoes back into Rafael’s room, dressed in clean boxers and heart leaping into his throat when he sees Rafael sitting up and awake.</p><p>“Rafael,” he blurts out.</p><p>“Nick,” Rafael says, giving him a quizzical look. “Nice shower?”</p><p><em>He knows, he has to know</em>, Nick thinks frantically, feeling guilty despite knowing Rafael was as enthusiastic as him, that he wants Nick in the same way. “Uh, yeah,” he says stupidly. “You’re up early.”</p><p>“I’m usually up earlier,” Rafael says. He’s made both sides of the bed and now he’s stretching, arms above his head and t-shirt exposing a pale strip of stomach that makes Nick’s mouth go dry. “Breakfast? Now that I actually own bacon and eggs.”</p><p>Nick must make the right noises, because he finds himself dressed and sat at the breakfast bar, staring into a cooling cup of coffee. He becomes aware of the lingering silence just as Rafael chooses to address it.</p><p>“Are we good?” he asks, suddenly much closer than Nick anticipated. The eggs hiss and spit in the frying pan, and Rafael spares them a glance. Nick pulls himself together.</p><p>“Sorry,” he says genuinely. “I’m tired, spacing out. It’s not you. C’mere.” Rafael still looks sceptical, but allows Nick to kiss him on the cheek. Unsatisfied, Nick kisses him on the mouth until Rafael smiles into it and kisses him back, escaping just in time to rescue the eggs.</p><p>“What time are you leaving?” Rafael asks when they’re both eating.</p><p>Nick, forcing himself to focus, answers, “I’ll probably go in for twelve. I can do a good five hours, and be back for dinner.” He takes a sip of his coffee, conscious of his previous mistake, and adds, “If that’s still okay.”</p><p>“Yes,” Rafael says fondly. He doesn’t roll his eyes, but the sentiment is there. “I told you you’d be tired.”</p><p>“Aren’t you?” Nick’s all too happy to chalk his behaviour up to exhaustion.</p><p>Rafael raises his mug to him. “Four coffees or so,” he says, “and I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“You’re still recovering,” Nick says as gently as he can, wincing at Rafael’s immediate sour expression. “Maybe just two coffees?” he jokes, hoping to smooth it over.</p><p>“I appreciate the thought,” Rafael says stiffly.</p><p>Nick wonders what it’ll take for Rafael to let himself be taken care of for once in his life, wonders if Rafael will ever trust him with that. He’s internalised the ideology of equating vulnerability with victimhood, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. Nick wants to press him about the recommended therapy, about whether he’ll feel safe in the apartment while Nick is gone, but he’s scared if he pushes too hard, Rafael will run in the opposite direction. He’s learned that the hard way with Rollins, and while he knows unsolicited advice is particularly unwelcome, he hopes Rafael would know it comes from a good place.</p><p>Hesitant to appear patronising, Nick keeps his mouth shut. “I have to run home first, anyway,” he says, picking up their abandoned, and safer, topic. “Get changed.”</p><p>“You didn’t bring a suit to lounge around my apartment?” Rafael asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m disappointed, Detective.”</p><p>“I’ll come straight back here tonight,” Nick promises, putting his cutlery down. “You can pretend the suit’s for you.”</p><p>Rafael huffs a laugh, reaching for his coffee. “Whatever shall I do without you here to entertain me?” he says, acting mournful. Nick’s gaze falls on Rafael’s bookshelf, as of yet having escaped his inspection, and he walks over to it.</p><p>“I’ll find you something,” he says, looking up at the high shelves and privately wondering how Rafael reaches the very top one. “You read everything on this?”</p><p>“One or two,” Rafael admits, sheepish.</p><p>Nick whirls to face him. “Seriously? There’s gotta be hundreds here.”</p><p>“Gifts,” Rafael lists, “bookshelf-fillers. Ones that make me look good at dinner parties.”</p><p>“Rafi,” Nick says, shaking his head disapprovingly and slipping an arm around Rafael’s waist as he approaches. “Gotta say, I’m disappointed in you.”</p><p>“Are you,” Rafael says, gaze fixed unerringly on him. This close, their height difference makes Nick shiver. He likes looking down at Rafael; he especially likes having Rafael look up at him. Then Rafael looks away, scanning the shelves and leaning into Nick’s side. “Recommend me something, then.”</p><p>Nick runs his fingers over the spines, noting the tasteful, decorative mix of alphabetised fiction and non-fiction, and steps forward to see the higher shelves better, moving Rafael with him and secretly thrilled when he doesn’t resist. Multiple times, he almost picks one, gently nudging the book from its home, but puts them back, humming thoughtfully. Rafael is quiet; Nick can feel his gaze.</p><p>“Here,” he says finally, plucking the book from the shelf and steadying the rest of them so they don’t tumble down.</p><p>“<em>Cold Mountain</em> by Charles Frazier,” Rafael reads, catching a glimpse before Nick flips it to read the blurb. Rafael moves away, facing Nick instead. “It won the National Book Award.”</p><p>“Oh, so you know that, for bragging reasons,” Nick says, grinning and holding the book to his chest so Rafael can’t see any details, “but do you know what it’s about?”</p><p>“If I’d known you were going to test me,” Rafael says, eyes sparkling with mirth, “I would have brushed up on my knowledge of cold mountains.”</p><p>Nick continues hiding the book for a brag of his own. “It’s about two lovers,” he says, lingering on the word, “during the Civil War. And Inman—“</p><p>“Inman?” Rafael asks incredulously.</p><p>“<em>Inman</em>,” Nick repeats, “deserts the Confederacy in the hope of returning to Ada’s side. It’s a hard journey, but he does it for her.” He blushes suddenly, feeling like he’s revealing too much about himself even just describing the plot.</p><p>“You’re recommending me a<em> romance</em>,” Rafael says, unconvinced. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have trusted Mr. <em>Pride and Prejudice</em> with my precious bookshelf.”</p><p>Nick laughs. “It’s inspired by Homer’s <em>Odyssey</em>?” he offers, appealing to Rafael’s vanity and grinning when it works.</p><p>“That, I have read,” Rafael says smugly. Nick figures he’s entitled to a little pride; it’s a tough read, after all. Rafael steps closer, into his space, and while Nick is distracted, coaxes his fingers from the book and takes it in his hands. “I’ll read it,” he says, looking at the book while Nick is looking at him.</p><p>Nick waits for his attention before kissing him, muscle memory taking him back to last night and he pulls Rafael close, closer, the book forgotten in favour of pushing Rafael up against the shelves. Rafael slips his arms free, looping them around Nick’s neck and crushing their lips together. Nick loosens his grip now he has Rafael where he wants him, working a hand beneath Rafael’s shirt and splaying his fingers across the warm skin of his back. Rafael breaks the kiss with a gasp, and drops the book.</p><p>“Disrespecting literature, Counsellor?” Nick asks, leaning out of reach when Rafael moves to kiss him and smirking at Rafael’s exasperated noise. Rafael doesn’t react when he moves forward again, gaze dipping from Nick’s eyes to his mouth. Nick’s pleased to note that he’s a little breathless.</p><p>“My apologies, Detective,” Rafael says curtly, close enough that Nick can feel the words, pick up the lingering scent of toothpaste. “I’d hate to incur a library fine. Do you take card?”</p><p>Nick bursts out laughing, ducking his head to Rafael’s shoulder and pressing him closer with the hand on his back. He catches Rafael’s small, pleased smile as he pulls back and it warms him, makes him feel like he’s doing something right.</p><p>Rafael retrieves <em>Cold Mountain</em> from the hardwood floor with a rueful smile. “What now?”</p><p>“We got a couple hours,” Nick says. The trouble with spending all their time in Rafael’s office is that he doesn’t really know what Rafael does for <em>fun</em>. Besides skiing and frequenting yachts, that is — both of which are a little out of Nick’s budget. “Central Park?”</p><p>Rafael’s eyes narrow, giving Nick the impression that Rafael doesn’t usually walk for the fun of it, but he desperately wants to get Rafael out of the house. Other than getting groceries, he hasn’t left the apartment in days.</p><p>“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Nick wheedles. “I’ll buy you a hotdog.”</p><p>“Ever the gentleman,” Rafael says tartly, but he’s amused, following Nick over to grab his shoes from where they’re lined up next to each other.</p><p>Nick relishes the opportunity to walk in public, to hold Rafael’s hand, to make enough stupid jokes that Rafael stops glancing behind them and actually begins to enjoy himself. It feels like a puzzle piece slotting into place, another rung climbed on the ladder, and Nick sees a future in Rafael’s smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>cold mountain by charles frazier is a slog but it suited my narrative needs</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i've had the bad day to end all bad days but i'm SO thrilled to finally earn this fic's E rating</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Rafael plans dinner, later that afternoon, he has an agenda.</p><p>He puts the lamp on in the bedroom, preferring its soft glow to the harsh glare of the overhead light — if everything goes according to plan, he needs all the help he can get — and dabs on cologne for the first time in a week, fingers shaking with nerves despite Nick’s already lengthy stay in his apartment, intimacy that had come naturally. It’s difficult to reassure himself that it’s just dinner when he knows and hopes otherwise.</p><p>“You dressed up for me?” Nick teases when he gets back, but he looks surprised and pleased, looking Rafael up and down and breaking into a smile. It’s hardly his usual three-piece: he’s settled for slacks and a cream shirt, ditching the suspenders. But it makes him feel put-together, somewhat normal, and Nick kisses him soft on the mouth. “You look nice,” he tells him seriously.</p><p>“Yes, well — it feels more natural than jeans and a t-shirt,” Rafael says, cheeks warming at the compliment. He’d taken his time in the shower, even ignored his hopeful erection, because he has bigger plans for tonight. Nick leaving for work had given him the opportunity to think things over, to decide if he was ready for this.</p><p>He hasn’t felt like this in a long time — if ever — and it scares him, caught between wanting to run and wanting to stick this thing out. Nick makes him want to try.</p><p>“I know I’ve been here every day,” Nick remarks later, eyeing the one candle Rafael owns, “but this feels like a date.”</p><p>“It is,” Rafael says, raising his glass to Nick, who chuckles and returns the gesture. He’d agreed to one glass under duress, and Rafael thinks with consternation how Nick must dread exceeding his limits after the shooting after Olivia’s party.</p><p>He closes his eyes when he swallows, and opening his eyes reveals the desired effect: Nick’s eyes are fixed on his bared throat, and seconds later Nick briefly places his hand atop Rafael’s, thumb stroking gentle, maddening circles until he takes it back to start eating.</p><p>Rafael feels like his heart is pounding the entire meal, feels like Nick knows exactly what he wants and is darkly amused, smirking when Rafael catches his eye.</p><p>“Work okay?” Rafael asks. They’d agreed last week that it was pointless trying not to bring work home, not when they both put their whole selves into their day jobs. Besides, Rafael would hate to brush over it if Nick had a bad day, just as he needs a place to vent that isn’t a bottle.</p><p>“Normal as it could be,” Nick says with a shrug. He sighs. “I’m not on desk duty, but Liv didn’t really let me do anything. I was in the box pretty much all afternoon with suspect after suspect.”</p><p>“It’s probably not down to Olivia,” Rafael says sympathetically. “Fear of transference. You know how the brass get.”</p><p>A scowl crosses Nick’s face. “Won’t be any transference,” he says, “not when I’m coming… back here to you.”</p><p>Nick’s hesitation makes Rafael wonder if he was going to say <em>home</em>. Before he can answer, Nick says, “Everyone asked after you,” tone cautious.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“I said you were already sick of being at home.”</p><p>“I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time in my apartment,” Rafael muses, chewing thoughtfully before he realises Nick has more to say, his gaze lingering. Rafael frowns at him. It’s not like Nick to not speak his mind.</p><p>“They, uh — they’re assuming we’re together.” Nick’s speaking fast, voice threaded with discomfort and an apparent fear of Rafael’s reaction. “You know, because…” He waves a hand to the apartment at large. “I didn’t confirm or deny, but I know we haven’t really talked about it—“</p><p>“How politic of you,” Rafael says, wincing at his own poor stalling tactic and the way Nick shuts his mouth, cowed. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about having this conversation: he knows Nick isn’t seeing anyone else, and he certainly doesn’t have the time for anyone who doesn’t understand the hours he works.</p><p><em>Like Nick does</em>, his mind fills in.</p><p>Really, they have nothing to lose by being exclusive: just Rafael’s pride, the fear that addressing the ‘What are we?’ question that even he doesn’t have a smart answer for will wreck this good thing between them. But he doesn’t want to let Nick go, either, and they can’t stay in limbo forever.</p><p>Rafael realises he’s subjecting Nick to the same kind of silence he himself objected to this morning, and clears his throat. Nick’s been watching him the whole time, and he offers Rafael a smile that Rafael knows he doesn’t deserve.</p><p>“I like this,” Rafael says, speaking slowly as he considers how best to phrase it. He would have preferred to have this conversation on his own terms, when he’d had time to prepare an answer tree and examine all the facts until his case was bulletproof. He reminds himself that he’s not a prosecutor, here: just a man, and one Nick is gazing at with narrowed eyes, beginning to suspect this conversation isn’t going the way he wants. Rafael rushes to reassure him. “I like us,” he forces himself to say, unable to meet Nick’s eyes as he says it. “I’m worried it’s been too easy. That it’s going to come crashing down on me.”</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Nick says, careful. “Sometimes a good thing is just that, you know?”</p><p>“Not in my experience,” Rafael says bitterly.</p><p>“I like being here with you,” Nick says, blunt honesty making Rafael’s breath catch. “Maybe we moved a little fast, but I like us, too. Just be honest with me.”</p><p>Rafael sips his Scotch, and the burn frees his tongue. “I want this,” he admits. The smile Nick gives him then makes his chest feel tight. “Thanks for being patient. I know this isn’t — easy.” <em>I don’t usually get this far</em>, he almost says, but decides to keep some cards close to his chest. Nick’s comfortable enough to start eating again, and Rafael picks up his abandoned fork.</p><p>“So the squad can make their assumptions, right?” Nick asks, eyes sparkling.</p><p>“You can tell them,” Rafael says, surprising himself.</p><p>Nick smirks. “Carisi‘s already been insufferable. You sure you wanna open yourself up to that?”</p><p>“Don’t make me regret it,” Rafael warns and Nick laughs, socked foot nudging against Rafael’s own, and Rafael is abruptly reminded of his post-dinner plans.</p><p>He takes their plates when they finish, offers Nick coffee. To Nick’s raised eyebrows he says, “If we’d gone out to a restaurant, they would’ve offered us coffee. The tradition didn’t start with me.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if it had,” Nick says. “Milk, and—“</p><p>“And one sugar,” Rafael finishes for him, and they share an embarrassed smile. It’s an intimate detail, no matter how small, that hits Rafael with a jolt; another petal unfolded from a flower in bloom.</p><p>“Please,” Nick adds, polite to a fault when he wants to be.</p><p>“How’s the case going?” Rafael asks when his back is turned and Nick can’t escape the conversation through increasingly imaginative facial expressions.</p><p>Nick sighs gustily. “You’re not supposed to be involved.”</p><p>“And I’m not,” Rafael says, stabbing at the buttons of the coffee machine. Over the noise of coffee pouring, he says, “I just want to know when that bastard’s been put away for good.”</p><p>“Last I heard, they’re talking over his plea,” Nick says. “Mostly shut us out. You’re hot property; DA wants this done right.”</p><p>“I bet,” Rafael says. He’s avoided the news, only answered some cursory texts. Carmen’s handling the rest. He isn’t ready to face the world just yet, feeling knocked off-balance, unable to live up to the public perception of himself.</p><p>“If it’s not good enough, I’ll go down there myself,” Nick says. Rafael knows he means it, and laughs. He stirs milk and sugar into Nick’s coffee, leaving his own black, and brings them carefully to the table. He’s developed the humiliating habit of trembling fingers, and is relieved they don’t shake when he places Nick’s cup before him. “Thank you,” Nick says.</p><p>Things have mellowed once Rafael sits down, the difficult conversation over and both of them relieved. Rafael’s gaze is drawn to Nick’s mouth, slick when he takes a sip of coffee and licks his lips for the lingering taste, effortlessly distracting. But Nick’s watching him, too, eyes on Rafael’s fidgeting hands on the mug.</p><p>“I’m going down to D.C. over the weekend,” he says.</p><p>Rafael swallows hard against his immediate reaction of ‘but I’ll be <em>alone</em>’. “How long’s it been?” he asks, and then as the thought occurs to him, “You didn’t miss out this weekend just gone, did you?”</p><p>Nick shakes his head. “No, no,” he reassures. “I can’t do every weekend, obviously. Plus, Maria doesn’t want me to.” Bitterness laces his tone.</p><p>“It’s difficult,” Rafael says with sympathy. Custody battles can get nasty: he wishes it was less often that a custody fight got in the way of a case or a verdict. But he can’t relate on a human level, not like Nick can, so he keeps his mouth shut. “I’m glad you get those weekends, anyway.” The impression he gets is that Maria prefers to see Nick as little as possible, regardless of what that means for his relationship with Zara, and he wonders how it must weigh on Nick, separated from his daughter.</p><p>“Me too,” Nick says, gaze far away, but he gives Rafael his full attention when he speaks again.</p><p>“I was thinking of seeing Liv,” Rafael says, and then corrects, “Getting a drink.”</p><p>He knows shutting himself away is no good, would hinder rather than help, no matter how much he wants to take full control of the situation. Burlington has been a lesson in control, he supposes. It’s never a good time to be reminded you’re not completely in charge of your life.</p><p>“I think that’d be good for you,” Nick says, cautious but firm. Rafael wonders how hard it was to help Olivia after the multiple incidents with William Lewis, if Nick has learned a thing or two about how far to push the people he loves when they’re in pain. It makes him feel safer knowing that Nick’s closer than anyone to understanding how to help — despite recognising that Lewis was well out of Burlington’s league. He can’t begin to imagine what Olivia went through. “Seeing Liv especially — I won’t speak for her, but she’s probably the best person you could talk to right now.”</p><p>“I thought so, too,” Rafael says. “I want to… to start moving forward.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Nick says, “but not too fast, right? I just want you to be comfortable.”</p><p>“And I appreciate that,” Rafael says, producing a genuine smile because the statement alone sounds like there’s a ‘But—’ coming. For Nick, he’ll prove that not everything has to be an argument tried in court: a trap he’s stumbled into too many times to count.</p><p>Nick’s gaze fixes on <em>Cold Mountain</em>, deserted on the dining table once Rafael realised reading was cutting into the time he had for food prep. “You like the book so far?” he asks. Rafael thinks they both draw a breath of relief at an objectively safe topic.</p><p>“It’s good,” Rafael allows, assured by Nick’s growing smirk that he doesn’t mind criticism. “I can see why it’s over four hundred pages, though.”</p><p>“Everyone wants to be Homer.”</p><p>Rafael taps his fingers against the mug. “Lots of pining.”</p><p>“Can’t relate to that?” Nick teases, and Rafael laughs.</p><p>“I think we both can,” he says warmly, thinking of long evenings in his office, swapping coffee for bourbon, surnames for first names, silence for conversation after conversation learning about each other.</p><p>He picks up his cup, indicating the sofa, and Nick follows his lead, walking close enough behind him that Rafael’s heart picks up speed.</p><p>Ostensibly, Rafael had the idea of drinking their coffee somewhere more casual, but he finds himself setting the mug down, Nick in his orbit and already raising a hand to Rafael’s cheek. It feels different, Nick teasing Rafael’s lips apart with his tongue, hands beginning to wander, moving their lips together with increasing pace until Rafael is panting, breaking away to breathe.</p><p>“You good?” Nick asks quietly. Rafael can’t go far with Nick’s hands on his waist and he nods, looping his arms tighter around Nick’s shoulders and using the leverage to pull Nick down on top of him. Nick laughs, looming over him and putting a hand beside his head for balance. “So it’s like that?”</p><p>“It’s like that,” Rafael replies. They take a moment to readjust before Nick kisses him again, long and dirty, biting Rafael’s bottom lip even as a gentle hand pushes back Rafael’s hair. Rafael can’t help arching into that pain, legs parting helplessly and Nick slots easily between them, letting Rafael know he’s getting hard.</p><p>Nick presses his face against Rafael’s neck, licking a burning stripe across the skin there. “You think I didn’t know what you were planning?” he murmurs, hips beginning to work a steady, breathless rhythm. “What you wanted?”</p><p>“Enlighten me,” Rafael manages, secretly thrilled that they’re so in tune and tipping his head back, powerless to it. Nick’s lips return to his throat, trailing open-mouthed kisses across his skin.</p><p>“Been killin’ me,” Nick says, and Rafael goes hot all over at the roughness of his voice, at the way arousal makes his accent thicken. “You make me so fucking hard I can’t even think.”</p><p>Rafael grabs a handful of Nick’s ass, pushing their hips together and startling a moan from Nick. “Show me,” he whispers, and Nick rolls his hips down, grinding them together in a punishing rhythm that has them both panting. Already overwhelmed, Rafael swallows his disappointment when Nick stops, calming their frantic pace and kissing Rafael slowly, savouring it. He tastes like wine and the hidden sweetness of coffee and Rafael’s head is full of him, overcome by that hunger he’d pushed away the other night and can’t help succumbing to now.</p><p>Nick’s fingers find Rafael’s buttons and he undoes them without breaking the kiss, sitting back and splaying a possessive palm across Rafael’s chest when he’s fully bared to Nick’s gaze. Rafael sits up on his elbows, conscious of his soft belly and the bulge in his slacks, fluorescent kitchen light unforgiving of his flaws. He can’t hide from Nick under cover of darkness forever, he knows, but Nick’s eyes are everywhere and Rafael tenses when Nick reaches for him, smoothing a hand over a yellowing bruise on Rafael’s abdomen.</p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” he says.</p><p>“It was only a day,” Rafael lies. The heaviness of Nick’s gaze stirs up something deep and buried in him, wishing that Nick was looking out of love and not guilt.</p><p>“More than that,” Nick corrects him, as Rafael knew he would. “I felt every minute of it. I—“ Nick blinks, and to Rafael’s horror there are unshed tears sparkling on his lashes. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Rafael can do nothing but pull Nick back to him, feeling gentle hands encircle his waist and rubbing his own hands up and down Nick’s back. He doesn’t think Nick is crying, just getting his bearings, but for a minute they just breathe together in sync, and at last Nick raises his head.</p><p>“You okay?” Rafael asks. “We can just stay here, if you want.”</p><p>“No, no,” Nick says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I want you. I always want you.”</p><p>Noting Nick’s sudden uncertainty, as if Rafael would kick him out of bed for having feelings, Rafael makes quick work of Nick’s buttons, swallowing as he reveals the skin there. Nick tosses the shirt aside when he’s done and Rafael wants to runs his hands all over the glorious spread of him, but then—</p><p>“Bedroom?” Nick asks cautiously.</p><p>Rafael finds himself nervous, and finds that it’s ridiculous for a 45 year old grown man to be nervous. Nick’s been in his bed for the past two nights, the two of them treading uncertain waters — this, however, is something Rafael understands.</p><p>“That would seem to be the logical next step,” he says, wincing at how cutting it comes out. Nick just smiles and offers him a hand, pushing the open shirt from Rafael’s shoulders when he’s upright.</p><p>“Okay?” he murmurs.</p><p>Rafael nods and walks ahead of him, heading into his bedroom, where the lamp casts a soft glow. Nick closes the door with a quiet click and comes up behind him, arms looping around Rafael’s middle and tucking his face into Rafael’s neck.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Rafael says, keeping his tone light.</p><p>“Indulge me,” Nick says, muffled.</p><p>He loosens his grip, though, when Rafael turns in his arms. Rafael moves with purpose, glancing down to unbuckle Nick’s belt, slide the button through the hole, draw down the zip. Nick obediently steps out of his slacks, smile growing as he reaches for Rafael in turn.</p><p>Nick’s unabashed desire, the way he lets everything he’s feeling play across his face, gives Rafael the confidence to reach between them, to touch Nick over his obscenely tight boxer-briefs. Nick’s lips part, pupils dilating all at once, and he takes a step forward.</p><p>Rafael swallows and Nick keeps moving, backing Rafael up until his knees hit the bed. He lets himself fall, pushing himself up until his head’s vaguely near the pillows, and lets his legs spread just a little.</p><p>Nick follows him in a flash, crawling over him and claiming his lips, body parting Rafael’s legs until all he can do is hang on and be kissed within an inch of his life. Nick rolls his hips down once, twice, and all Rafael can think about is how hard he is, how big Nick feels against him. He runs his bare foot along Nick’s calf, letting his arms fall to either side. Nick takes the bait, pinning down his right wrist and leaning in to kiss his neck.</p><p>“What do you want?” he asks quietly.</p><p>“Always the gentleman,” Rafael says sardonically, stalling for time. “What do <em>you </em>want?” He almost regrets asking when Nick’s eyes glint wickedly.</p><p>“I want to make you come,” Nick murmurs. Rafael’s heart hammers under his lips; Nick drags them down, mouthing at his collarbone before sucking a mark there. Rafael’s thighs tense and tremble, squeezing around Nick’s body. “I want to make you loud, wanna hear you.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Rafael’s mouth, moves up to kiss the shell of Rafael’s ear. Rafael glances between them, shivering at the sight of Nick’s erection straining his boxers. “I wanna fuck you, Rafi, would you like that?”</p><p>“Yes,” slips out before Rafael can help himself, too flustered to play coy.</p><p>“Take those off,” Nick breathes. “Right now.”</p><p>Rafael works his boxers over his hips and Nick helps him with the rest, biting his lip. He takes Rafael in hand and gives one long pull, tightening his grip when prompted. Rafael can’t help but moan at the feel, the <em>sight</em> of it, of Nick glancing between their bodies and rubbing his thumb over the head.</p><p>“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”</p><p>Rafael can’t answer, almost overwhelmed with how long it’s been since someone touched him like this, how long he’s been thinking of Nick touching him like this. His self-consciousness melts away the longer Nick looks at him like he’s something precious, beautiful. Nick looks up, catches his gaze and breaks into a painfully charming smile that Rafael is almost fooled by before Nick adds, “I wanna suck you off. Can I?”</p><p>Rafael closes his eyes. “Christ, Nick.” Nick’s still looking at him and Rafael manages, “What am I gonna do, say <em>no</em>?”</p><p>“Just checking,” Nick says cheerfully, and he’s still smiling as he presses kisses to Rafael’s collarbone, sternum, happy trail, and the next kiss is wet and catches the pre-come already beading at the tip of Rafael’s cock.</p><p>Nick goes slow, takes just the head in his mouth and sucks lightly, teasing Rafael with the tip of his tongue. His fingers wrap around what isn’t in his mouth, pumping once before he starts to ease his mouth down.</p><p>It’s impossible not to move then, as Nick bobs his head and opens wider for him, and Rafael’s hips must jerk one time too many because Nick spreads a proprietary hand over his hipbone, light pressure against him. Rafael doesn’t trust himself to look down. The thudding of his heartbeat in his ears isn’t louder than the <em>noises</em> Nick’s making: obscene, wet sounds as he works his mouth and then a moan that Rafael can <em>feel </em>around him.</p><p>He thrusts up helplessly into Nick’s mouth but Nick just takes it, takes Rafael into his throat with a choked noise and renewed enthusiasm, increasing the pace until Rafael is the one who can’t breathe. Nick pins him with a forearm across his hips and Rafael groans when he finally looks down and sees that Nick’s other hand is between his legs, rubbing himself roughly to the pace he’s set.</p><p>It’s almost enough to push him over and Rafael gasps, “Stop, you have to stop, I’m going to—“</p><p>Nick hums around him and it takes everything he has not to come right there, holding his breath as Nick draws back, letting Rafael’s cock drag against his bottom lip. His mouth is unbearably slick and pink and Rafael can’t help but drag Nick up for a kiss, distracted from the taste of himself by Nick’s clothed cock rubbing against his own.</p><p>It’s Nick who draws back and Rafael almost feels guilty for demanding so much of him, but panting for breath is a good look on him.</p><p>“Shit,” Nick mutters, so quiet Rafael thinks he wasn’t meant to hear. He reclines on his side, grabbing Rafael’s hand and pressing a kiss to it.</p><p>Rafael, already in the process of sitting up, leans further over rather than let go of Nick, fishing his lube out of the bedside drawer and producing a condom he hopes isn’t expired. He hadn’t wanted to be brazen yesterday; it would’ve been a little presumptuous to buy them in front of Nick.</p><p>When he turns back to Nick, laying the items on the pillow above, Nick’s eyes grow wide.</p><p>Rafael looks at Nick properly for the first time, spread out and gorgeous in Rafael’s bed, and wonders how things might have gone had he not been abducted. They were going to have lunch the next day, and then if it had gone well between them, Rafael had planned to make dinner for Nick at his home. As he had tonight.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Nick asks, fingers trailing up and down Rafael’s thigh. It’s incredibly distracting, but Rafael mourns the loss as Nick lets go to rid himself of his ridiculous boxers in a quick, practised move and rolls onto his back, shameless.</p><p>“What would’ve happened if we dated like normal people,” Rafael says truthfully, helplessly looking between Nick’s legs and biting his lip at the size of him, at the thought of—</p><p>“You can’t think about the what ifs,” Nick says, smiling up at him as Rafael straddles his hips. “We ended up here anyway.” His expression turns serious. “If we met on the Friday,” he says, “you wouldn’t have had court the next day. I might’ve been invited in.”</p><p>“How presumptuous of you,” Rafael says, all too aware that his every inadvertent movement brushes their cocks together. When he grinds down a little, Nick’s teeth sink into his lower lip, and Rafael moves as much as he dares, rocking back and forth and gasping as Nick thrusts against him in return. “What makes you think I’d sleep with you on the first date?”</p><p>“This is only our second,” Nick reminds him, and then, roughly, “God, come here.” Rafael leans down, knees around Nick’s hips and the position doing terrible things to his back, but then Nick flips them over and knocks the breath out of him.</p><p>“I think we’re both too old to be doing that,” Rafael says disapprovingly.</p><p>“You liked it fine last night,” Nick says, kissing Rafael just long enough that he laughs when Nick pulls away. Nick sits back and squeezes lube onto his fingers, and Rafael stops laughing, biting his lip. “How long’s it been for you?” Nick asks.</p><p>“A while,” Rafael says, forcing a self-deprecating smile but knowing Nick will read his nerves from his face. “This job isn’t conducive to getting laid.”</p><p>Nick hesitates. “Maybe you should turn over.”</p><p>It feels strange, being on all fours, and Rafael tenses when Nick touches his thigh. “This okay?” Nick asks, and waits for Rafael’s nod before trailing his fingers over his hole. Rafael tries to relax, to breathe, and Nick waits for him, tracing his skin and spreading the lube around.</p><p>“Okay,” Rafael says, reassured by Nick’s other hand stroking up and down his back, a soothing gesture that doesn’t stop when Nick slides a finger inside him. Rafael inadvertently clenches around him and Nick swears, gripping Rafael’s waist hard before letting go. Rafael wonders if Nick’s thinking about what he’ll feel like around his cock, and bites his lip.</p><p>He can feel himself relaxing, letting Nick’s finger move in gentle circles, and murmurs that he can take another. Nick obeys, pulling out with a noise that makes Rafael blush and getting more lube before sliding two fingers in together. This time, Rafael moans.</p><p>“There we go,” Nick says, a grin evident in his voice, and he slows for a moment, searching for something. Rafael stutters when he finds it, pushing back for more, and Nick doesn’t make him wait, curling his fingers and rubbing them against Rafael’s prostate until his breath leaves him in a cracked groan.</p><p>“Yeah?” Nick purrs, thumbing delicately at Rafael’s rim and making him whine. “Is that nice?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Rafael gasps, arching his back so Nick’s fingers slide deeper.</p><p>“Fuck, you take me so well,” Nick says, breathless, driving his fingers faster, fucking them in and out until Rafael feels like he could beg for it, hands making fists in the sheets as he spreads his legs as wide as he possibly can. He can’t answer, hopelessly distracted and overwhelmed, and he swears when Nick adds a third finger, feeling completely pulled apart.</p><p>Nick slows down, placing a heavy hand on Rafael’s hip when he tries to thrust down on Nick’s fingers, still inside him. “Okay,” Nick says, and then he does withdraw, pulling out with a slick sound and leaving Rafael empty. “Can I... do you still want—“</p><p>Rafael has to clear his throat, feeling exposed and turning around to face Nick. “Yes,” he says emphatically, gaze slipping from Nick’s face to between his legs, where his dick’s flushed and hard and curving up towards his belly. As he watches, Nick takes himself in hand, sighing at the sensation, and Rafael abruptly wants to touch him.</p><p>He closes the distance between them and Nick feels good in his hands, Rafael’s fingers wrapping around the shaft and starting to move. He’s thrilled when Nick’s eyes flutter closed, lips parting in a moan, because he wants to make Nick feel good too, wants to please him in a way he’s never truly cared about with anyone else.</p><p>Rafael doesn’t stop, fascinated to watch Nick lose control, his muscles flexing and stomach contracting as he holds himself together. “Baby,” Nick gasps, something in Rafael lighting up at the word, “please, I need you—“</p><p>He lets go then, lets Nick press him back into the sheets, kissing his way from Rafael’s sternum to his lips. Nick pauses to roll on the condom and pauses again between Rafael’s legs, making eye contact and waiting for him to nod.</p><p>Taking just the head has Rafael panting. He focuses on Nick’s face, the way his lips have parted helplessly, the way he’s frozen still so as not to hurt Rafael.</p><p>“You wanna flip over?” Nick asks quietly. “Might be easier.”</p><p>“No,” Rafael answers immediately. “I… I want you like this.”</p><p>He wants to watch Nick’s face as he fucks him, wants to see every stupid expression that crosses that pretty face, wants to know what Nick looks like when he comes. He wants to see Nick, to know him.</p><p>Nick slides deeper in small increments and if Rafael felt pulled apart before, he feels speared open now. They’re both breathing heavier and he appreciates Nick’s exceptional level of control over himself, forearms braced either side of Rafael’s head and waiting for his permission every time he moves. Overwhelmed, Rafael doesn’t know what it means to have that considerable attention focused on him and he’s glad when Nick bottoms out, pressing his face briefly into Rafael’s neck and exhaling a breath there.</p><p>“Fuck, you feel good.”</p><p>Laughing only makes him more aware of how huge Nick feels inside him, and Rafael’s chuckle ends as a moan. “You do, too,” he says eventually, letting his head fall back against the pillow, surrendering. “Just — just a moment.”</p><p>“Whatever you want.” Nick grins suddenly, sharp and white in the light cast by the lamp, and lifts his hand to stroke over Rafael’s cheek. “You look perfect like this,” he says honestly.</p><p>Rafael relinquishes his iron grip on the sheets to rub his hands over Nick’s shoulders, glancing between them and admiring the hard, flat planes of Nick’s chest. He ignores the urge to suck his own stomach in. “Perfect?” he says. “Look at you.”</p><p>The too-full feeling starts to pass, lets him bear down on Nick, and the gorgeous moan it wrenches from Nick is worth any discomfort.</p><p>“Dios mio,” Nick says weakly, and Rafael feels himself smirking.</p><p>It’s been a while — <em>God</em>, has it been a while — but he wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything, Nick hard and hot like a brand inside him, eyelashes fluttering as he keeps still for Rafael, tries not to hurt him, looks after him in a way Rafael’s never felt safe enough to allow with anyone else. He feels vulnerable and lets it wash over him, choosing to focus on Nick instead, the scent of their sweat and sex, the novelty of their first time.</p><p>“Okay,” he confirms aloud, knowing Nick won’t take him up on anything implicit. Nick closes his eyes as if in relief and withdraws, pulling out inch by glorious inch before thrusting back <em>in</em>.</p><p>They both cry out and Rafael’s nails sink into Nick’s shoulders, making him swear under his breath. Nick doesn’t hesitate, fucking him hard in measured strokes that soon aren’t enough, tightly controlled as Nick watches his face, checks he’s okay. Rafael can sense he’s holding back and he appreciates the sentiment, but he’s waited long enough.</p><p>“You can do better than that, Detective,” he goads, catching a flash of Nick’s teeth before Nick’s kissing him hard, biting at Rafael’s lip as he draws away and leaving him gasping.</p><p>“As you wish, Counsellor,” Nick replies, wasting no time. Quick snaps of his hips send sparks through Rafael’s whole body and he can’t catch his breath, stuttering moans leaving his lips with each thrust. His fingers rake down Nick’s arms and Nick groans, grabbing Rafael’s thigh and hitching it up around his waist and the angle changes, letting Nick move so much deeper and Rafael cries out when he thrusts against his prostate.</p><p>Nick looks smug, hair damp and tousled over his forehead, but Rafael can hardly focus as Nick’s fingers skate up his wrist, pressing him down against the bed for a long moment before interlocking their fingers. Rafael can hear the slap of Nick’s hips against his own, obscene in the dim light and the intimacy of Nick holding his hand and he wraps both legs around Nick, driving him deeper.</p><p>He can <em>see</em> Nick learning him, see Nick concentrate and angle his hips up and find that magic place inside him. Rafael sees stars, turning his face helplessly to the side as he cries out and distantly hearing Nick murmur, “Mi amor, amor, I want to see you,” hearing the strain in his voice, the breathlessness. He grabs for a handful of Nick’s hair and yanks him down for a kiss. Their teeth clack together but Rafael can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed, flushing all over as Nick moans into his mouth.</p><p>“Rafi,” Nick says helplessly, losing his rhythm and abandoning it for slow dirty grinds of his hips, Rafael’s dick rubbing against his stomach, wet and leaking. He arches his back, lets Nick slide against his prostate, looks at Nick and finds pupils blown wide with desire. Nick makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like <em>please</em> and Rafael rocks up to meet him, clenches around the thickness of Nick inside him. He finds himself on the edge all at once, free hand scrabbling at Nick’s shoulder and finally finding purchase in his hair, Nick’s lips parting in ecstasy.</p><p>Nick’s reading him again, eyes unerringly fixed on Rafael’s face, and Rafael wants to break in his hands, barely conscious of Nick’s name on his lips but aware of how Nick whines in response. His voice is thin, breathless — “Nick, <em>Nick</em>, please” — and when he thrusts up Nick meets him halfway, grinding down with enough force that a cry is torn from Rafael’s throat.</p><p>He hardly manages, “<em>Nick</em>,” before his body draws tight, muscles contracting as he shivers hard and comes untouched, trembling with the force of it. The pretty blush spreading from Nick’s cheeks down to his chest feels red-hot against his skin and he feels like he’s burning, clenching his thighs hard around Nick’s waist just to keep himself grounded.</p><p>Nick swears but doesn’t stop, eyes fixed on Rafael’s and erratic pace continuing past the point of pleasure, every thrust making Rafael whimper, too much but not enough.</p><p>“Are you gonna come for me?” he asks in a murmur, wanting to see it, sensing it in the little hitches in Nick’s breath, their hands sliding together slick but firm. Nick’s undone, hair falling over his forehead, pretty mouth open on a moan. His grip tightens as he cries out and comes, hips stuttering once, twice before he stops, collapsing heavily on Rafael.</p><p>Chest heaving, Rafael gives him a minute, too overwhelmed to move and distracted by the gradual synchronisation of their heartbeats.</p><p>“God,” Nick says, barely catching his breath. “Rafael — <em>Rafi</em>…” He moves fast, leaning up on visibly shaking arms to kiss Rafael as long and deep as he can before he has to roll over.</p><p>Nick gets up as Rafael reaches for him, flushing in humiliation before realising Nick’s just binning the condom. When he returns, he lies on his side, as close to Rafael as he can get without burrowing into his skin, and slings a proprietary arm and leg over Rafael, clinging like a koala.</p><p>Rafael strokes Nick’s back aimlessly, staring at the ceiling even under the weight of Nick’s gaze. He’s never been loud in bed, not even in college, but Nick wrung noises out of him he never thought he’d make. He’s never felt so connected to another person — even now, refusing to make eye contact.</p><p>“Hey,” Nick says, hand resting at the base of Rafael’s throat and commanding his attention. “Stop thinking.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Rafael says eloquently, making Nick laugh. He cranes his neck to look at the time, finding it later than he expected and having no energy to change the bed, so they settle for putting a towel down.</p><p>In the bathroom, he finds himself sore, the ache of it satisfying, as though Nick was reluctant to leave him without a reminder. Rafael likes that, likes the thought of being Nick’s, running a finger over the darkening mark on his collarbone.</p><p>There’s a glass of water beside the bed when he returns and Rafael gulps it down gratefully, deciding not to bother with a shirt and compensating by pulling the sheets to his chin. Nick doesn’t hesitate in pulling him close when he turns the lamp off, gathering Rafael to him and for a moment there’s only the sound of their breathing, deep and even. Rafael could have been convinced by the false peace if Nick’s heart wasn’t hammering under his hand.</p><p>“What is it?” he asks in the dark, shifting upwards and brushing their lips together. Nick holds the second kiss for longer, hand coming to rest on Rafael’s and interlocking their fingers.</p><p>“I haven’t done this in a while,” Nick says quietly.</p><p>“Cuddled?” Rafael says, covering his own nerves with flippancy.</p><p>Nick laughs, a rumble against Rafael’s ear. “That, too,” he says. “All of it. Me and Maria were together, what — eight years, and the last couple haven’t been pretty. I’ve forgotten how to just <em>be</em> with someone.”</p><p>“What about Rollins?” Rafael regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.</p><p>“We were never, uh—“ Nick swallows, loud in the silence. “Nothing happened. I shut it down.”</p><p>“Oh,” Rafael says, hating that the revelation makes him smug but unable to frame it in any way but <em>Nick chose me</em>. Nick loosens his grip as Rafael turns in his arms, adjusting until he’s spooned up behind Rafael, his breath stirring Rafael’s hair.</p><p>“I just wanna be with you,” Nick admits, darkness making him bold. “Last thing I wanna do is screw this up.”</p><p>Rafael covers Nick’s hand with his own. “We make a good pair, then,” he says wryly, thinking of the way — and how <em>long</em> ago — his last relationship ended. “Just figuring it out.”</p><p>Nick will feel more comfortable, Rafael thinks, when they’re both back at work, when the parameters are more clearly defined. Then he can define their relationship against that of his colleagues, his friends, understand how things will have changed when Rafael’s called into SVU. But Rafael appreciates this time, too — likes being able to show that he’s welcomed Nick into his home. Showing what’s in his heart will be harder to stomach.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once Nick’s opened his eyes, he knows he’s awake for good, sunlight streaming into the room and his body starting to overheat from the way Rafael is wrapped around him, carelessly possessive. He doesn’t dare move, smiling to himself at the undeniable display of affection from a man who keeps himself under such tight control, resolving to tease Rafael about it until he blushes in that pretty way of his. Nick moves his arm, settling his hand over Rafael’s, and then he’s confronted with what <em>really</em> woke him up.</p><p>Rafael shifts again, pressing his erection insistently against Nick’s hip, and Nick sucks in a sharp breath.</p><p>His body starts to take an interest, Rafael glued to his side and breath puffing against his neck, and Nick pushes gently against him, a thrill of electricity going through him when Rafael responds.</p><p>“Rafael,” Nick says quietly, biting his lip when Rafael exhales softly against his skin, half a moan and wholly debilitating.</p><p>“Nick,” Rafael murmurs back, the vulnerability of it telling Nick he’s still asleep even as he turns his head, revealing closed eyes and a lax expression. Rafael shifts down the bed, hips rolling against Nick’s thigh and quickly finding a rhythm, and Nick can’t help but palm his cock through his boxers, sighing in relief at the touch.</p><p>Rafael’s panting against Nick’s throat now, grip iron-tight around Nick’s chest and Nick feels trapped and loves it, rocking into the hand on his dick and listening to Rafael’s breath hitch in pleasure as Nick provides the friction he’s mindlessly seeking. Heart racing, Nick tries again, grip tightening on Rafael’s arm. “Rafi,” he whispers urgently, “baby, wake up—“</p><p>“Mm,” Rafael mumbles incoherently, hips working and an honest-to-God <em>whimper</em> makes Nick’s cock twitch, thinking of nothing but making Rafael make that noise again, high and desperate.</p><p>Nick feels it when he wakes up: Rafael freezes beside him, the sudden loss of movement making Nick groan. “Nick,” Rafael says stiffly, shutting his eyes to avoid Nick’s gaze falling on him, cheeks hot with embarrassment. “I—“</p><p>“Don’t stop,” Nick begs, heart picking up speed and dick throbbing as Rafael tentatively rocks his hips again, and again, finding a better rhythm and moving his hand down Nick’s chest to cup his cock, to slide a hand into Nick’s boxers. Nick moans and arches against him, head turning helplessly to the side and Rafael leans up and catches his lips in a half-kiss, neither of them able to hold it for long.</p><p>“Can you come like this?” Nick gasps, Rafael’s hand working him to distraction.</p><p>“Yes,” Rafael says, and Nick pulls him up for a proper kiss, too far gone to care about morning breath or morning-after decorum. “Oh God, Nick,” Rafael manages, words ending on a moan and making Nick’s toes curl in the sheets.</p><p>“<em>Rafi</em>,” he says, too close and wanting Rafael to come too, wanting suddenly to watch Rafael lick his come off his hand, “say my name, say it—“</p><p>He feels it when Rafael comes, hand tightening briefly and making Nick see stars, Rafael barely able to manage, “<em>Nick</em>,” voice bruised and broken and Nick comes with a shout, body arching hard against Rafael who holds him tight, holds him close until they’re both trembling with aftershocks.</p><p>Rafael’s gentle when he withdraws his hand, wiping it unobtrusively on the sheets and muttering something about having to change them anyway. Nick can hardly wait for their breathing to slow before dragging Rafael up for a kiss, hard and bruising and everything he can’t put into words, wanting to hold onto this moment.</p><p>They’re quiet for a little while after that, Nick finding Rafael’s hand and squeezing, hiding a smile as Rafael snuggles closer against him. He wishes they had more time, knowing the more things go back to normal, the less time they’ll have to just exist in each other’s space like this.</p><p>“So,” he says, rubbing circles on Rafael’s hand with his thumb. “Sweet dreams?”</p><p>Rafael looks up only to shoot him a glare, the sweet blush of his cheeks tempered by the glint in his eye. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”</p><p>“Huh,” Nick says, lips curling into a smirk. “I’m flattered you take such an interest in me, Counsellor.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” Rafael says, bringing their joined hands to his mouth and dropping a kiss there.</p><p>They fall into companionable silence. Rafael eventually draws his hand back and Nick takes the opportunity to card his fingers through Rafael’s hair, soft and beginning to curl without gel to hold it in place. Rafael leans into the touch like a cat, humming in contentment when Nick runs short fingernails against his scalp.</p><p>He can’t imagine parting from Rafael for long, reluctant to leave Rafael’s bed and debating whether to roll them over and go at it again, thoughts of Rafael’s hands on him making his dick twitch feebly. Nick feels lost and found at the same time, addicted to the honeymoon phase and thankful for this strange period of limbo where they’re free to lounge about and learn each other, especially in the wake of Burlington. Nick knows things have taken a different trajectory since then, since their initial long evenings in the office squinting at case files, but he’ll see this through, see Rafael to a path of healing and recovery. He likes the way Rafael looks in the morning, likes waking up tangled together and teasing Rafael about coffee from the machine, likes how this comes naturally. It feels right in a way things haven’t for a long time.</p><p>Rafael ends up deciding the next move for him, stretching against Nick’s chest and murmuring, “We should shower.”</p><p>“Is that an invitation?”</p><p>“You wish,” Rafael says, sitting up and hiding a bone-cracking yawn with his hand. His hair’s sticking up on one side and Nick smooths it down, smiling as Rafael gets flustered and starts untangling himself from Nick and the sheets.</p><p>“Coffee?” Rafael offers as he stands.</p><p>Nick follows his lead, still thinking about what’s changed in the last 24 hours, looking at Rafael and wanting to kiss him. “Yeah, please,” he remembers to say. Rafael smiles at him and leaves Nick to make the bed, heart lighter than ever.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The week passes simultaneously too fast and too slow. Nick goes back to work full-time, and Rafael putters about like a retiree and begs Carmen to send some files over. She relents out of pity, as Rafael knew she would, and he’s relieved to get back to the stress and speed of his job, taking his mind far away from Burlington. Nick comes over after work, and Rafael feels safe with him there, letting himself fall headfirst and trying not to hold anything back.</p><p>He’s never been in a relationship where things come so easy, where they understand each other on a level no one can come close to. It feels special, makes his pulse jump when he catches Nick staring, expression fond or hungry or both.</p><p>On Friday, Nick doesn’t come over after work, and Rafael straightens his cuffs in an attempt not to jump to his phone the second it buzzes. It’s near enough dark outside, nightlife just waking up, but Rafael has a little time before he meets Liv.</p><p><em>Missing you tonight</em>, the text says.</p><p><em>I’m sure you can entertain yourself, Detective</em>, Rafael writes back, and then, making a conscious effort to be more open, adds, <em>Miss you too.</em></p><p>Getting a cab by himself is nerve-wracking. Rafael keeps Nick’s contact open on his phone the whole time, heart in his throat, having sent Liv the cab’s license plate in a text. He briefly entertains the notion of learning to drive, but it’s not like he plans to leave New York, and patience is not a virtue he can lay claim to.</p><p>Liv’s looking well, in a navy blue dress Rafael suspects she wore to court that afternoon but looks just as gorgeous in the dim light of Shaw’s. They grab drinks and a spot at the end of the bar, and Liv talks about work, about Noah, and Rafael lets himself breathe, still reeling over the memory of Liv taking his statement at the hospital and struggling for the first time to separate work from their friendship.</p><p>“Bet you can’t wait to get back to work, huh?” she asks, smiling and raising her hand for another drink.</p><p>“They’re only making things harder for themselves, keeping me off,” Rafael says, trying for humour. He hesitates, putting voice to a suspicion he’s been nursing since Carmen suggested that she’d be the one to bring him up to speed, rather than him consulting with the defence and various judges. “They just don’t know how to talk to me.”</p><p>“I get it,” Liv says, able to relate on a level no one else can. Despite feeling seen, Rafael feels like an imposter at the same time, a voice in his head whispering that his ordeal wasn’t as bad, wasn’t as traumatic, wasn’t as dangerous as Liv’s. “But, you’ve got friends here, Rafael,” she adds, catching his eye. “A support system. Have you booked an appointment with the therapist?”</p><p>Rafael flushes, embarrassed, as if Liv hadn’t been the one to recommend Edward Ruiz in the first place. “Yes,” he says reluctantly. “He has to sign off on me going back to work, so—“</p><p>“I think it’ll be good for you,” Liv interrupts before he can thoroughly trash the idea of therapy. “Best decision I ever made.”</p><p>“I’ll take your word for it.”</p><p>“And you don’t have to get personal right off the bat,” Liv continues, correctly identifying the source of Rafael’s discomfort. He can’t see that he’ll ever be ready to talk about his father, hand curling into a fist and knuckles ringing with phantom pain at the thought. “You can talk about work. You can… talk about Nick.”</p><p>Rafael suspects she’s curious, half a smile creeping into her expression, and laughs, taking a sip of his drink to belay his answer. He doesn’t know if Nick said anything today, or if Liv’s just making assumptions based on the — admittedly substantial — evidence.</p><p>“Nick seems — happy,” Liv says. “You do, too.”</p><p>“I am,” Rafael allows, wary of revealing too much but unable to suppress a smile of his own. It’s been a long time since he had something to share, to talk about and think about and hold onto for the bad moments and the good ones, too.</p><p>When they say goodbye, Liv holds onto him a little too long. They hadn’t talked about Burlington specifically, about the agonising hours Liv spent directing the search and the case. Rafael supposes it was different for Nick, who at least had some agency; as a sergeant, Liv was near-enough confined to her office, forced to delegate when she’d rather have been out searching herself.</p><p>“You call me, anytime,” she says when she pulls back. “Noah and I would love to have you.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Rafael says, and means it. “I’ll… I’ll let you know how the appointment goes.”</p><p>“Please do,” Liv says, and Rafael sees her into her cab and hopes more than anything he goes back to work sooner rather than later. He wasn’t made to be purely social, to see people only when it suits him; he wants to <em>work</em> with Liv again, wants to squabble and disagree and draw eye-rolls from the rest of the squad, a group where Rafael’s beginning to feel like he belongs.</p><p>When he gets home, phone sweating in his hand after his second daunting cab ride, Nick texts asking if they can call. It’s a relief to say yes, to have his finger on the button as he looks both ways and swiftly turns his key in the lock, near-slamming the door behind him before exhaling and toeing off his shoes. He draws the bolt across and sits down heavily, waiting for his heart rate to slow before calling Nick.</p><p>“I’m packing, so you’re on speaker,” Nick tells him in lieu of a greeting. “Let me know if the stupid thing cuts out.”</p><p>“Hello to you, too.” Rafael knows Nick’s driving down to D.C. tonight, soft thuds and the sound of zippers being drawn telling Rafael that he’s rushing at the last minute. “It feels odd, you not being here,” Rafael says, surprising even himself, tongue loosened both by Scotch and the urge to offer something up, to give.</p><p>“I hate being alone in my apartment,” Nick volunteers in turn. “Been rackin’ up so much overtime, since…” He chuckles, self-deprecating.</p><p>Rafael stretches out on the sofa, wanting a coffee but reluctant to bother with the noise of his machine. “It’s better when you’re here,” he decides on saying.</p><p>“Don’t miss me too much,” Nick says, a smile in his voice.</p><p>“I won’t,” Rafael says. “You’ve been eating my food all week.”</p><p>Nick laughs, loud and full and making Rafael smile fondly to himself, glad Nick can’t see. “I’ve been <em>cooking</em> your food all week!”</p><p>“And now the bad man is gone,” Rafael continues, “I can order Thai.” Nick laughs again, the microphone crackling, and Rafael hears him set something down. Liv was right, he thinks, Nick <em>does</em> sound happy. Looser, more relaxed than he’s been in months. It makes Rafael warm to think he’d had a hand in that. “Does Zara like takeout?” he asks on a whim.</p><p>Nick goes silent. Rafael holds his breath, worried that he’s asked the wrong question, pried into somewhere he’s not welcome yet, but Nick does reply, thoughtful tone excusing the pause. “She likes Thai, too,” he says. “There’s an idea, huh?”</p><p>Rafael smiles, heart thumping against his ribs but it’s okay, he thinks, one step at a time. He knows this is new for Nick, too. “What time are you back?”</p><p>“Late Monday,” Nick says, evidently sitting down because he takes Rafael off speaker a moment later, giving him his full attention. “Zara’s got the day off school — teacher training, or something. Liv doesn’t mind as long as I pull a double sometime next week.”</p><p>“Come over on Tuesday?” Rafael asks, closing his eyes for a second, hiding from the world even over something so simple. It’ll take time to realise he can ask for things, that Nick will give in return, that a relationship is about balance and not about counting favours.</p><p>“Sure,” Nick says, like it’s nothing, and Rafael relaxes.</p><p>“I’ll cook you dinner.”</p><p>“You will, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Rafael says. “Grilled cheese.”</p><p>Nick snorts. “Can’t wait,” he says dryly. “And you — you’ve got your appointment on Monday, right?” Rafael hums in agreement. “Hopefully I’ll speak to you before then, but… you’ll let me know how it goes?”</p><p>Some part of him shrinks in shame, wanting to pair showing such emotion with memories of his father, of being berated for his weakness. Rafael pushes the thought away, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that vulnerability doesn’t have to be dangerous, doesn’t have to be a cliff edge. He says, “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”</p><p>They text in the mornings, talk over the phone in the evenings, and by the time his appointment rolls around, Rafael feels prepared, if not entirely thrilled about it. He gets there early, giving himself time to stare at the gold placard on the door across from him, the liminality of the cosy yet impersonal waiting room setting his teeth on edge.</p><p>“Rafael Barba?” Ruiz calls, and he pronounces Rafael’s name the way his mother does, extending a firm handshake and breaking into a smile. “Come on in.”</p><p>Rafael takes a deep breath, and steps inside.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so there we are, all done :') i can't believe it's been 10 weeks already. i really hope you enjoyed this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'd really appreciate any comments!! you can find me on twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith and tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com c:</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>